The Friend Zone

 I have heard that this current generation of young people- whatever it's called- is a lot less sexually anxious that some of the previous ones. They might be more inclined to be friends with the opposite sex without all the angst in their pants that us boomers might have had. Thus, the Friend Zone isn't such a bad place for them to be. It's not necessarily an exile. This is good, I think. Friends of any genitalia are good to have. 

Now back in my day, if a girl wanted to "just be friends", that was code for, "I don't want to sleep with you". That was harsh. That was rejection. It could be painful. And it usually happened to us fellas.

I've been put in the Friend Zone before. I have also put women in the Friend Zone. I have to say they don't take it any better than men. Sometimes they take it worse.

I lived with a girl I'll call "Cornlips". It's similar to her real-life odd name. She was a fellow bartender where I worked. She was a tough-talking gal, not very attractive, but she had big titties. She sang pretty well and the popular song at the time was "Bette Davis Eyes". She had Bette Davis eyes and sang that song at karaoke every chance she could. She was a good pool player and a buddy to us bartenders. We'd go drinking after work and shoot pool sometimes. We had all been beaten by one of our cooks, Don, who was quite obnoxious in his victories, and we encouraged Cornlips to take him on. She did and she beat him bad. I recall us walking out, slapping her on the back, giddy in our vicarious victory over Don.

Cornlips started crying. "You guys treat me like one of the guys!"

Well, yeah. She was one of us. What the fvck was wrong with that? Other girls- waitresses- were as well. We'd regularly go out in large, mixed groups. Some of the girls were married or had boyfriends and they were safe with us. I personally had invented the WPP- the Waitress Protection Program. One of us bartenders, or a waiter, would offer to escort a waitress out to her car. It wasn't a dangerous town at all, but parking was dicey and a lot of them were pulling in a hundred dollars or better on the good nights. Better safe than sorry. 

Sometime later, Cornlips had been evicted from her apartment. I had had my own apartment plans fall through when, Stavros, a bartender I was going to room with changed his mind and decided to stay at his parents' house. I couldn't help but feel like my handyman skills had been taken advantage of in my doing the work to convert a four-bedroom unit his dad owned into two, 2br units. I felt played. Blessing in disguise I guess, because Stavros, though a super nice guy, was a fat Greek and boy oh boy, whatever his diet was, he could really stink up a bathroom!

So, Cornlips and I agreed to find a place together. It had to be in my name because with an eviction on her record, she couldn't rent. And not only that, I also had the cash for a deposit. We found a great place, a bit farther from the job than I wanted. TWO BEDROOMS, two baths. This is capitalized because, we were NOT shacking up anymore that Stavros and I were intending to do. Just a couple of buddies renting a place together. Two bathrooms was important as well. She probably wasn't on the gyros and saganaki diet, but she had her own bathroom to stink up. This is important in any sort of relationship. 

To make a long story shorter, maybe the 2nd night in our place she knocks on my bedroom door and tells me that she hadn't put her bed together yet and asked if she could sleep with me. I didn't think that was a good idea. I knew me and I knew my penis. Discretion is the better part of valor, I thought. That could not end well. 

It didn't end well anyway. In her quest to change the dynamic, the dynamic had, of course, changed. I don't know how much I recognized it at the time, but she had quite an attitude towards me in the days that followed. Things came to a head about a week later when, with rent coming due, I was about $40 shy on my half. I was good for it in a few days, but that was her last straw. The next day, a cop from that town came to the door and told me I had to go. I could go the easy way, or the hard way.

That's totally illegal, by the way. MY name was on the lease! To this day I have a record of NOT going to jail that I'm pretty proud of. As wrong as the cop was, he was a cop. He was a big, blue line of fvckery that was best I didn't cross. I gathered up some necessaries and left. There was a 7-11 right nearby. I saw the landlord there and asked him what the fvck just happened. He was a nice old guy and would only tell me that all he knew was my name was taken off the lease, and he didn't want any trouble...

Such bullshit. I forget where my car was at the time, because I recall having to call for a ride. I left Cornlips behind in the No Friend Zone. A hollow victory for her, I guess. Now she had a place she couldn't afford on her own.

Whether you are a woman or a man, you don't owe anyone sex that you don't care to give. I can't claim to have always been good at picking out friends or lovers. In avoiding Cornlips as a lover, I mistook her for a friend. And I shouldn't have done either. Sometimes the Friend Zone is damned if you do, damned if you don't.