Exiting "The Friend Zone"

Sigh. Here we go...


I'm typically an open book, both in person, and in writing. Despite popular opinion, I don't air ALL my dirty laundry-I give just enough brutally honest tidbits about myself to allow those around me to know who I am beyond the shadow of a doubt-and to show them that I probably can relate to whatever they're going through at a given moment because I've likely felt something similar. It allows me to connect with even the least likely of persons, and that makes me feel great. But this subject-this "relationship" stuff-is hard to address openly. I doubt I'm the only stable single person who feels that way. Talking about your love life (or lack thereof) leaves you feeling dangerously vulnerable. You can only discuss it with certain people because everyone else starts feeling bad for you and immediately trying to find people to set you up with, when all you'd hoped to do is an emotional detox. So with most people, I don't even go there, or I keep my comments broad and generalized. Even in more intimate settings I can give the impression that I have that area of my life somewhat under control despite my faults, mishaps, and troubles; either by cracking some jokes, or going into some long-winded monologue about how "I-don't-need-a-man" or "men-can't-handle-me" or whatever declaration of false bravado I can quickly think of to keep me appearing intact. In weaker moments, I may revert to a rhythmic tirade of male-bashing, because that's easy and makes for good laughs-or in the company of friends of both sexes, spirited yet good-natured debates. In extreme circumstances, I may just change the subject if it starts to get TOO real. But you know me little better now than when I began chronicling my adulthood. In writing, I don't put up a front. I can't. And, especially for my younger readers, it may be better this way. This way, you learn VERY well, complete with flashing red lights and black-and-yellow "CAUTION" tape, what NOT to do. You may view me differently after reading this; you may even respect me less. But I need to say all this in order to make sense of it myself, so bear with me.

Cutting to the chase, so to speak, I have been a long-term resident of "The Friend Zone" for many, many years. I'll explain. The "Friend Zone" describes a state in which a single person is strictly viewed by one or more members of the opposite sex within their potential dating pool, as a platonic friend, without the possibility of that friendship evolving into anything more. Based solely on my observation, many times individuals may end up here because they've been placed there ("He's like my brother, I could NEVER see him any other way"). And granted, it is completely legitimate to only feel friendly affection for someone of the opposite sex. It is an unfortunate, yet common turn of events when in a friendship, one party begins to feel something more and the other doesn't. And we've received much information over the years to help us keep our opposite-sex friendships healthy and balanced and therefore minimize the risk of heartbreak. But unrequited romantic feelings are inevitably going to develop from time to time despite even the best efforts to be careful. We are striving every day to be the best people we can-so of course we're going to have qualities that attract us to one another. But it isn't possible for us to all be in love with each other at the same time. The level to which that sting of disappointment affects us depends highly on the measures each party takes moving forward. That's one definition of what it means to be in "The Friend Zone," and that typically happens against the will of the person considered to be perpetually platonic. But there remains yet another definition-one that is completely avoidable.

Up until about last week, I sounded like a broken record, airing the same complaint over and over again about men: "What, do I have a sign on my head that says, 'Buddy'? Why does every guy I meet immediately treat me like their sister-or worse yet, their brother? (looking exaggeratedly down my own blouse) I am still a woman, aren't I?" What I say about my dealings with the opposite sex is true. In no time, pretty much any single brother I meet is telling me his whole life story and asking me for advice about the NEXT girl, while I'm sitting there having to mentally tear down the white picket fence I imagined for us and trying to figure out how we ever even got to this point. I loved and continue to love having brothers as friends, but to have every single person you've been interested in romantically since the year 2000, practically want you to be the best man in their wedding to someone else is bound to give a girl a complex. What was wrong with these men? I'm not terrible to look at, they obviously enjoy my company and hold me in high esteem, and I have the cell phone records to prove that if necessary. Emotionally speaking, they're on me like white on rice...only for it all to end with, "You'll make a great wife for someone, someday." REALLY?

I've driven everyone close to me half crazy with the fact that I'm constantly finding myself in these situations and then asking "why" for the next 3 years until the next person comes along to initiate the cycle all over again. I've been blaming the guys this whole time, thinking maybe I'm just attracted to men with issues, who are just too dumb to see a good thing when it's right in front of them. After all, Mom and Dad have known one another since they were seven years old, and they've enjoyed over 30 years of happy marriage. Wouldn't someone want to be with their "best friend"? We could skip all the layers of trying to impress each other and just realize that since we like to be around each other so much, we could make this a permanent setup. Why not? I've been frustrated and confused about this whole thing for so long I think it's put wrinkles on my forehead. But recently, finally, and much to both my relief as well as embarrassment, the veil has been lifted; the mystery solved: It's not them, it's ME. I PUT MYSELF IN THE FRIEND ZONE.

Now, people have warned me about this for years, and either I didn't get it, or I just didn't agree. I'm a friendly person. Was I supposed to just shut down and turn into a giggling fool in the presence of the opposite sex so as to be viewed as a woman? It wasn't going to happen, and I was highly insulted at the notion. Friendly and social is what I am; I didn't see anyone else around me having to change who they were. It just never seemed fair, so I went on as I was...overly familiar with every brother I met, from the MOMENT we met, slapping them on the back after a hearty laugh, draping my arm over their shoulder, referring to THEM as MY brother, drawing them into weighty conversation until they couldn't help but bare their souls. It's a great deal they get, really: That comfort of getting to enjoy a warmth that's too youthful to be motherly, not critical enough to be sisterly, less discreet or cautious than every most other "girly" girls they know...almost like having one of your boys around, except there's a pretty dress and you can dance together at parties. And the best part is, it'll always be this way-always this open, always this comfortable. She is never going to fall in love with you. Yep, guys were hitting the jackpot by finding me. Why WOULD they ever see me as anything else? My behavior made it clear from the start that there was no romantic potential; I was just a super-cool girl who was good at being "one of the guys." How dare I fall in love with any of them!

Now that the truth of this has hit me like a ton of bricks (hurled at me from the general direction of my friends and family-thanks a lot, I both love AND hate you all) at a juncture in my life where being in denial could literally be bad for my health, I've had to reluctantly (and quite shamefully) accept that I've been doing this to myself for as long as I can remember. I used to read all that information in the publications about how to have appropriate boundaries in friendships and say, "Mmm-hmm, here it is, clear as day, yet "they" STILL do this to me." Nobody did anything to me that I didn't allow or even unwittingly encourage. I see that now. And in order to end the cycle, obviously things must change. But being any other way would completely foreign, unnatural and terrifying. I've enjoyed and benefitted tremendously from being single and if that's how things continue, I'll be just fine. But the idea that I've been sabotaging myself from possibly making a connection is not something for which I'd like to spend the rest of my life kicking myself. I've been trying to figure out how I got here. Where did I lose my way? Oh...oh yeah. I remember now.

Being an overweight, nerdy adolescent often leads to success in adulthood, but can do some long-term psychological damage, I tell you. I'd have crushes on boys and just be convinced that if they ever found out how I felt, they'd laugh me out of town or turn up their noses in disgust. I had lots of pretty friends at whom all the boys would practically knock me over to look. What I noticed early on, though, was that while everyone was ogling my cute friends, the same boys were actually enjoying being around ME. They'd ask me to introduce them to my girlfriends, but at the moment of truth, they were all too nervous and self conscious and sweaty-palmed to know what to say to one another other than "hi" and "bye". Since I knew none of them were interested in me it was easy for me to just be myself and enjoy the friendships. And I did, every last one of them. Of course it hurt a little if I ever started to like one of them as more than a friend and have to listen to them pining over so-and-so, but they way I saw it, this level of intimacy would probably be the closet thing I'd ever have to a real relationship, so I might as well go all in. And that's exactly what I've been doing down to this day.

Except I'm not an adolescent anymore. I actually have plenty to offer in a relationship. But no one will ever know that until I put away my high school letterman jacket and start behaving like the woman I am. That's quite clear now. But it frightens me to no end to consider what that could possibly imply. I fear that if I don't do what I've always done, brothers won't talk to me at all. I had to sit here and stare at that line for another 5 minutes after typing it to let that reality sink in. Wow. I'm terrified. I just imagine myself sitting alone, crickets chirping in the background, wondering what happened to my life. I really don't know how I'm going to do this. So I'm afraid I can't end this entry on a triumphant high, completely resolute and equipped with a plan of execution because I still don't quite know what "change" entirely implies for me. I can only hope that my warning is taken seriously: KNOW YOUR WORTH, because you will be valued at the price you place on yourself, and once that's done, it is quite difficult to undo. I will say this, however: half the battle is won. At least now, I can stop asking, "Why?"