On the friendzone, AGAIN.

For the second time on this blog, I'm ranting about the "friendzone". The mythical friendzone that stems from the ignorant and entitled belief that my friendship is some consolation prize to my FRIENDS for my pussy. 

Why is it that after a certain period of time, and a certain depth of friendship, suddenly some people become dissatisfied with the friendship that they've been content with for years. For like thirteen years. Roughly. Through hide and seek and finger painting, through arguments in parking lots when you helped my friends ruin their relationships (because you knew and she knew that she had a boyfriend, but also very funny story because shortly after that he became my boyfriend too.... ahh, Mandeville. You'd have to live here to get it....) and through long distance military best friend letters to and from Germany, Amsterdam and the States. 

And now you're trying to convince me that you wanna wife me. And lay pipe in me. 

Like I'm not allowed to be twenty with friendships outside of the realm in which men want to date me and fuck me. Why is my life a series of Venn Diagrams where all the men in my life who aren't related to me must fall into subsets of the men who value me either romantically or sexually?  

Is this because I freely share the theory that best friend marriages are the realest ones? Well hell. I'm hardly ready for a serious relationship again much less a marriage, so slow down, Buster. You've got a little wait before I'm the woman I feel is ready for marriage. I need time. And a healthy space to develop organically. I could use some friends. 

Or is it that friends feel like after a certain stage of friendship—like if maybe you endure enough conversations and play dates and group hangouts and bonus points for if you remember when I had braces or better yet knew me before braces or next level gods who knew me before a full set of adult teeth—you suddenly become entitled to cash your points in for romantic entitlement? Because lemme know... I will be way more selective in my players if I have to put prizes away for the ones who ascend to the hall of fame. I only have one cookie after all and I couldn't be expecting you all to share it. Crumbs don't make a meal, right? 

Forgive me for being salty. I wasn't supposed to write any more salty posts fr a while (even though I almost wrote a very salty one undoing all my progress and discussing all the nasty ways I've discovered my first love is human and flawed, but I chose to settle for this aside instead).