He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and he was really tall. I did not pay much attention to him because he was a senior and I was a freshman. You’re probably thinking this is going to turn into a typical high school freshman heartbreak.
I am not a bitch. I am actually doing the nicest thing for you as your friend by telling you to move on.
We put the good guys in our back pockets. We keep them there on rainy days, we use them when we’re lonely, when we need male attention, when we’re feeling sorry for ourselves.
He only shows affection when it’s just the two of you. He does some cute shit and makes you laugh, but only in the privacy of the bedroom.
It’s not because I’m weak. It’s not because I lack self-respect. And it’s definitely not because I am a victim.
The friend zone is fine. I’m really comfortable here. I’m not overthinking everything and I definitely don’t resent you because I’m really into you and you don’t feel the same way. This is totally fine with me (it’s not, just date me).
The deeper and more dangerous insinuation to their dislike of the “friend zone” is that many men believe that they have a right to date women.
We talk to them for weeks or months without really knowing what we are, because we don’t want to push them away or pressure them, so we pretend to be cool with not knowing because we’re not in a hurry to be exclusive either and we pretend to like the grey are because it gives us options, but we don’t really want to talk to anyone else.
I don’t want to get my hopes up to only have them crushed by being another friend or someone’s 2 AM booty call – I know I deserve more than that.
I want someone who knows it’s safe to be my friend but it’s dangerous to lose me as a lover. I want someone who’s not afraid of danger.