I have had a lot of experience with the friend zone — specifically, putting people in it. Almost every single one of my male friends has, at some point, attempted to shoot some semblance of their shot. And while it sounds conceited to admit, I assure you, men do not throw themselves at my feet. I have never actually dated anyone. It seems to me that I have the most success with the men I choose to befriend. But, the reality is that I am just not interested.
To be clear, attempts to advance a platonic relationship into a romantic pairing, and the corresponding acceptance or rejection by the other vested party, are not restricted to heteronormative relationships. Additionally, I recognize that successful romantic relationships can blossom from initial friendships — relationships that may never have been realized had one side of the couple never dared to make the jump. However, in heterosexual relationships, the friend zone seems to specifically refer to the phenomenon in which a man tries and fails to turn a female friendship into something more and thus remains friends with her. The name itself conjures images of a scorned man biding his time, waiting for his patience to be rewarded. My experiences revolve around friend-zoning men, and I believe that within the heteronormative sphere specifically, the friend zone is a reflection of misogynistic attitudes.
Frankly, I hate the friend zone. I hate what it represents about the patriarchy, the role it forces me to play and even its name. “Zone,” to me, implies a temporary status from which you can advance, like yards you gain on the way to a touchdown that is inevitable. Such a connotation is an insult to all women. It implies a lack of respect for a woman’s “no” and an unwarranted arrogance on the side of the man — that he knows what is best for her and that her best is him.
I have had a lot of experience with the friend zone — specifically, putting people in it. Almost every single one of my male friends has, at some point, attempted to shoot some semblance of their shot. And while it sounds conceited to admit, I assure you, men do not throw themselves at my feet. I have never actually dated anyone. It seems to me that I have the most success with the men I choose to befriend. But, the reality is that I am just not interested.
Societally, we tend to reward the doers and the risk-takers. We love an underdog story, a happy ending — even more so the idea that persistence pays off and success comes to those who deserve it. On social media posts of boy and girl duos, often where the girl is perceived as more conventionally attractive, comments will tout the heroism of the boy, thanking him for made-up selfless acts, like saving a family from a burning building. While these comments seem harmless enough — even uplifting — they portray the underlying notion that not only is a relationship or hook-up what the boy surely wants but that any rejection on the girl’s part is surmountable.
And therein lies my issue with the friend zone. Existing in the friend zone is an active state that is defined by a continued interest to get out of it. For example, it is ridiculous to think that the male friend I have from high school is in the friend zone because he briefly liked me two weeks into knowing me. He isn’t. We have known each other much longer in a friendly capacity, and that period is a blip in our relationship that feels entirely irrelevant. When I think about how that experience is distinguished from the rest of my time “friend-zoning,” I can’t help but think back to the way he responded to rejection, with humor and humility — but also finality — resulting in a true friendship between us. Subsequently, our dynamic was entirely unaffected by him asking me out not only because he didn’t let hurt pride change our friendship, but also because I knew that he wouldn’t try again, unlike other times when my “no” only meant “no for now” to a man.
Therefore, there is really no reason to root for a friend-zoned man, for his situation is entirely self-inflicted. He must stop yearning for what he’s been told he cannot have — a lesson he really ought to have learned years ago — which can be achieved by having some self-respect. Because of my friend’s dignity, I perceived the continuance of our companionship as a genuine desire to still be friends and nothing more. For the only time ever, I did not have to worry about my friendliness sending mixed signals even after an explicit rejection, and thus I could enjoy hanging out with him, no unsaid words hanging in the air.
I will admit that there is a balance between being both humble and prideful enough to accept a singular rejection and quit. But, should that balance be too hard to strike, it is far ruder to stay friends when you intend to play the long game rather than to take a step back. Yet, lest we get away from ourselves, the message of the friend zone itself, not only the behavior afterward, defines each situation.
I have been spammed by drunk texts from a former friend, who, still drunk at 2:59 a.m., succinctly recapped the night, during which he admitted his interest in me, found out that it was unreciprocated and took the rejection as a blow to his self-esteem, with “summary of the night: i made a lot of mistakes, i definitely do not really like you thattttttttt much.” This might have been convincing had he not sent me a barrage of messages beforehand in which he cited specific moments between us that led him to believe I liked him, self-deprecating reasons for why he must not be good enough for me and panicked about having to avoid me in the future because of his embarrassment. If anything, his attempt at damage control was insulting.
My text replies had been very assuaging and, as I reread them, overly so. Never mind a simple rejection; instead, there I was assuring him he was blowing the ordeal out of proportion and that he was still a catch — “Just not my catch maybe.” If his feelings toward me had been remotely nonchalant, it seemed to me like the conversation would have required a lot less of my time and energy.
I now see I may have been part of the problem. Yes, his messages took a negative turn after my rejection because he was disappointed, but I am now of the opinion that any need for emotional support is not my responsibility to fill. In fact, I have stopped apologizing when rejecting men altogether — a revelation that may not seem so groundbreaking, but required conscious effort on my end, especially given increasingly vague proposals.
In my freshman year of high school, my biology partner asked for my number and texted me asking to hang out because “I was nice.” I threw a tantrum (in the privacy of my own house), and my mother helped me construct a reply that, in essence, conveyed that I thought it would be best if we did not see each other outside of class. In my sophomore year of college, a biochemistry lab partner and a different biology discussion partner (whose table I had sat at for maybe two days), both got my number and asked to hang out outside of class. This time, I had no sweat stains and no apologies to give. I do not proclaim myself the moral standard by any means — I ignored one of the texts for an entire week and only responded once he guessed I was not interested, but I do think I am right about not apologizing.
Perhaps I initially seem cruel to reject pretty harmless and flattering requests. But it is in instances where I feel no connection with the man that apologizing for my disinterest feels laughable. I will admit that as much as I hate the friend zone, there is an element of excitement in being someone’s crush. Perhaps as a broader testament to patriarchal pressure on women to feel desirable and desired, I have usually taken a man’s crush on me as a win. As far back as elementary school, I remember feeling secretly pleased upon finding out I had an admirer on the playground. It felt self-assuring to be known and to be liked. However, in the aforementioned situations, our interactions were always defined by the subject of biology, and I struggled to feel a warm glow. I was bewildered by the fact that they didn’t know me, and so their interest in me did not feel founded in any part of my identity. Instead, I felt slightly weirded out that my politeness could have implied something to them and was peeved at the fact that I now had to respond.
I was also aggrieved by the fact that these men didn’t seem to understand that they were breaking societal norms. They did not know me at all, yet they tried to advance from lecture friend status without first actually being lecture friends. Or perhaps I was more upset that their boldness was societally sanctioned. Is the flip side of the pressure to please men an encouragement for men to pursue what they please? And if these men did not break societal norms, if asking to see me outside of class is entirely appropriate, then our standards for seeking friends versus lovers are unfortunately wildly different.
Truly, it is the woman who suffers the most from this discrepancy. Having been taught to be likable but wanting to be firm, she is forced to navigate a situation she did not ask for anyway — a situation that is made more complicated by the at times hazy difference between friends and something more. When a friend who I frequently went to the dining hall with asked me out to dinner at the end of the year, I froze and said yes because it was too awkward to look him in the eyes and demand he explain the implications of said dinner. On the surface it was entirely on par for our friendship, but it was the way he asked, a tad timid and unusually formal for our normal conversation, that suggested to me a new set of expectations. And while I worried about misinterpreting a friendly request in the namesake of past experiences, I was more concerned about having to clarify my lack of interest on a future date.
The idea of “leading him on” is a pretty serious accusation, and one I find myself grappling with often, both personally and when trying to advise my friends. To lead someone on means to beguile them, but specifically in the context of relationships, it means to make them believe there is potential for a deeper relationship than there actually is. The fact that colloquially, leading someone on means to falsely imply that a friendship has the potential to turn into a romantic relationship just speaks to the types of relationships we implicitly define as more meaningful. Regardless, I am always cognizant of the concept of leading a guy on because I am scared of being put into a position down the line where saying no is even harder. While for me this means simply avoiding the potential for an awkward encounter where I have to express my disinterest face to face, for many women, saying no can be dangerous and put them at risk of violent retaliation.
In all cases, I propose that, being the owner of your own friend zone, you can do no wrong, as long as you unapologetically prioritize your own desires and comfort. Say no however, whenever, and to whomever you want. Having to friend-zone someone is a tough spot to be in, but it’s a position you did not ask for, and thus you do not owe anyone anything with your response. I am all for freezing in the moment — offering your number or saying yes to a date when put on the spot. There is time later to clarify. Perhaps a simple text that says, “I am not sorry, I am just not that into you.”
Statement Columnist Molly Goldwasser can be reached at gomolly@umich.edu.
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