The Female Friend-zone


(The below is a post with a female touching on things that I laid out in a previous post.)

Ladies we’ve all done it--met a really great guy who treats you really well that you just cannot imagine yourself fucking.  He’s so amazing! He changes your light bulbs, takes out your trash, you invite him to your cookout because you know he’ll volunteer to supervise the grill; he even lets you talk to him about your man problems. He’s literally your bestie with a beard. The man is in love with you, and you know it, but you can’t help that you aren’t attracted to him. That’s just life. What I didn’t know until recently is that men are out here friend-zoning US. It’s so sad!
A few weekends ago, I woke up completely distraught. I rolled my somewhat drunk ass out of bed, swung open my best friend’s bedroom door, interrupted her phone convo and screamed, “I GOT FRIEND-ZONED LAST NIGHT.” She looked horrified! We’ve honestly never heard of such a thing before. We are fucking gorgeous women with things going for ourselves and men always want us, or so I thought.
So, I met a guy about a year or so ago. He was new to the city and came here to get his doctorate in some science shit that sounded way too complex for me to ask him to explain. He asked me on a couple of dates, but I got nervous that we wouldn’t have much to talk about. I was a college dropout that was working her way up a corporate ladder, and he was this extremely educated man that was--to be perfectly honest and for lack of better words--fucking beautiful. It was intimidating. I started referring to him as “the nigga that’s out of my league” and my friends told me to shut up, “just because he’s a nerd does not mean he’s out of your league." I honestly felt that way, though, yet, still, I liked him, and I wanted him, Bad.
One Sunday, while I and my bitches were brunching, (getting lit as fuck on real liquor as opposed to mimosas), he called me. It was very random because we were hardly speaking at this point. Casual convo turned into me telling him to come to the restaurant. He said, “Nah, I just wanted to chill and smoke.” I took this as my way in and told him I would be home in a little; we could match. He came over, we smoked, talked about some dumb shit, and he left. What I thought was ideal for a first one-on-one encounter; intimate enough without being slutty, you know. He hit me up a couple of times over the course of a couple of months to ask me what was going on nightlife-wise over the weekend, I always let him know what Pittsburgh Tonight had scheduled, but for one reason or another we never ran into each other, until randomly one night. We were excited to see each other, and he followed my friends and me from bar to bar all night, bought drinks and everything; it was fun. I invited him to the after-hours, but he declined, which was like, “Whatever, no big deal.” He called a couple of days later and asked to come see my new apartment.  We smoked, watched TV, talked, and he left… again. That’s when I got nervous. Why isn’t this fucker hitting on me? Tell me I look good, flirt, kiss me on my cheek on the way out the door, SOMETHINGmy nigga; it was uncharted territory. I had to get to the bottom of the shit; didn’t know how, but it was going to happen.
Now, let’s fast forward to one lit ass night, I ran into him (not sure how because it gets really fuzzy) and we were talking, and I just blurted out, “How come you don’t kiss me?” (Super mild compared to what I wanted to say). He looked at me confused and said, “Rox, we are definitely just friends." I suddenly felt the urge to barf, but I just said, “No we aren’t! Why would you say that?!” Before he even got a chance to open his mouth to respond, I ran away, and I mean quite literally ran in the opposite direction wearing 5-inch heels. I’m sure it was awkward for him, and I know I probably came across as the biggest weirdo of all time, but I just had to go. I needed a drink. I carried on with my night. It was my friend’s birthday, and there was a lot more liquor to drink up. I forgot about the entire thing until I opened my eyes the next morning. Now, it’s all I think about. What would make him believe that we were just friends?
Maybe those weren’t dates he was trying to ask me on. Maybe he honestly just wanted to be my friend. Maybe he is way out of my league; maybe he thinks I’m stupid (fuck him, if he does). Maybe I’m just not as fire as I believe I am (TUH!). Maybe he’s gay as fuck (this is what I’m clinging to). I don’t know man; I can’t place it. I’m going to blame this one on my friends, if those sluts didn’t talk me up, I would have just given up on him after he said he was just short of his doctorate. All I know is, whatever the reason may be, there are niggas out here friend-zoning fire ass women, and it’s a cold dark place to be in.
Be safe. -Stay Lit (November 3, 2015)

(Alright, to address her confusion; I can see her being confused due to the guy tricking off his money on her and her friends by buying them drinks, but the rest ties into my previously tagged post. Now, the dude that she was dealing with is just an educated square, but it’s obvious from her expectations of how he was supposed to be behaving towards her that she’s used to dealing with lames that aren’t capable of maintaining their composure while being around females they desire; this is why her post accentuates mine.

By the way, my tagged post isn’t an attempt to diss the poster; it just happens to be what I named the post.)

You can follow her on Twitter here.


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