A young man sat in my office and
related how he had recently attempted to initiate a romantic
relationship with a woman friend. He told me they had seen a play
together, and then gone to dinner. At dinner, he asked her if she
would be interested in making “more” of their friendship.
“Do you know what she said? She said,
'I'm really not looking for a relationship right now. I'm more than
happy to be your friend, though.' What am I supposed to do with
that?”
I had a feeling that he actually wanted
me to answer that question. But I didn't take the bait: “You tell
me: What do you do with what?” I said, reflecting the question back
to him.
“I don't know. I mean, it happened
again! I got friend-zoned!” he said.
And there it is: The dreaded
“Friend-Zone.” For those who do not know, the “friend-zone”
is supposedly this place where men go when they are told by the
object of their romantic fancy that there is no chance of a romantic
relationship, just a friendship. (Although, this is somewhat of an
unfair definition: I've heard women complain about being in the
“friend-zone” more times than I can count. But that's a topic for
another day.)
I replied: “So let me get this clear:
You have a friendship with Sara [not her real name, obviously], and
you would like a romantic relationship to develop. She is not
interested. Do I have that right?”
“Yes,” he replied. “This happens
to me all the time, though. I try to be a nice guy, and then I end up
with a lot of women friends, but not a girlfriend.”
As a therapist who is also a feminist,
I have so many responses to this. For example: “If you're just
trying to be a nice guy to get a girlfriend, then you're not really a
nice guy at all.” Or: “What makes you think that 'being a nice
guy' is sufficient to generate romantic interest in anyone? 'Being a
nice guy' is a default setting, dude.”
However, one of the realities of the
therapy office is that I have to be present and aware for all my
clients, even the ones who may not necessarily act in alignment with
my politics.
I have noticed over the years that
indignation—like most forms of anger—often hides emotional pain.
So what I said was, “It sounds like you've been rejected more than
a few times. Can you tell me what that feels like?”
His response was one of confusion. I
think he was warming himself up to go on a “all women are terrible”
rant, and I cut him off and asked him to explore his hurt. I could
actually see the emotions on his face as he struggled—on the one
hand, he really wanted to vent his rage. On the other, he really was
in pain, and I had hit something real.
Eventually, pain won out: “It really
does hurt. I mean, I know it hurts, but I never think about it. I
really like Sara. I mean, I think we'd be great together. I want to
make her as happy as she makes me, you know? I don't know... I just
feel sad now.”
“Brian [again, not a real name,
obviously], your pain is real. You stepped into vulnerability—you
took a risk, and showed your true self. And, you got rejected. That
hurts. What would happen if you just let yourself be hurt, instead of
covering it with anger?”
He sat quietly for a few moments, and
then said, “I just want someone to love me.”
Sometimes, it is better if the
therapist doesn't say a word. I suspected that this was one of those
times. It seemed like hours, but in reality it was only a couple of
minutes. And then he spoke again: “I don't know if I can still be
friends with her.”
“Tell me more about that,” I said.
“When I see her, it hurts, because it
reminds me of what I don't have. And, if I stay friends with her,
I'll always be thinking about dating her. And what's that going to be
like when she does start dating someone? It's not fair to her or to
me.” He was quiet for a minute. “Would it be terrible if I
stopped being her friend?”
“I guess that depends on what you
mean by terrible,” I said. “It would probably be painful, because
you have feelings for her. But you are not obligated to maintain a
friendship with anyone. So if it has to be that you cannot be friends
anymore, then maybe that's what you have to do.”
“But...” he protested, “that's
not what I want.”
“No,” I said as gently as I
possibly could. “What you want is a romantic relationship. That's
off the table. Now, you have to decide what you can live with.”
Our session continued. This client and
I revisited this topic for several weeks. Eventually, he did end the
friendship with Sara. To his credit, he did not pressure her for a
romantic relationship. He did not try to "win her over." He was mature and respected what she said. And, he tried to remain friends, but found that too
difficult and painful.
----
Why did I write this post? Because I
have seen the “friend-zone” stuff coming up again and again, and
I wanted to give my opinion. (What else are blogs for?) Also, because
I wanted to write a post that was more personal then my usual “5
Ways to Improve your Relationship” kind of thing.
And also, because I wanted to make a point about the "friend zone" being anger that masks feelings of hurt and rejection. I wanted to offer an alternative to engaging hurt and rejection besides falling into blaming another person (or an entire gender). So here is the summary of what I think may be helpful in this kind of situation.
1. If someone tells you they are not
interested in a romantic relationship, then you have to respect that.
You do not get to pressure them to change their mind. You are not
“entitled to an explanation,” so don't ask why they're not
interested. And ultimately, knowing the reason you have been rejected
won't make you feel better anyway.
2. That pain you feel when someone says
they're not interested? That's real. It may be rejection, or sadness,
or disappointment, or any number of things. Acknowledge that you
have pain and work through it. If you have been turned down multiple
times, it may be a significant amount of work. That's OK. In fact,
it's better to work through the pain than to ignore it, or to blame
someone else for it. And it is possible to work through emotional
pain, trust me. And though it should go without saying, I'll say it
anyway: Do not expect to resolve that pain by getting the romantic
relationship you were just turned down for.
3. If you cannot stay friends, then you
don't have to. There is absolutely no obligation to be friends with
anyone. If it is too painful, you may have to end the friendship.
(Notice that I'm talking about a friendship being “too painful.”
If, on the other hand, you feel that you cannot stay friends because
you no longer have common interests, then perhaps you weren't really
friends to begin with.)
4. Finally, if you are respectful and
direct with your communications, you do not need to feel shame around
wanting to have a romantic or sexual relationship with a friend.
There is no shame in wanting a romantic or sexual relationship with
another adult. Taking a risk and being vulnerable is something to
celebrate, not something to punish.
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