(1) Do you have a girlfriend?
(2) Who is (insert unknown woman’s name)?
I won’t be addressing the former at this time (although the responses I’ve heard to it are HI-LARIOUS!). Instead, I will focus on the latter question and some of the underlying issues posed both directly and indirectly.
In my experience, the question of identification occurs most often when a woman who is already fairly interested in you is uncertain of some particular woman about whom I had not spoken (else she obviously wouldn’t have to ask). What I find even more particularly interesting is the set of answers that I and other men have come up with to answer this question.
“Oh, that’s my homegirl.”
How many of you gentlemen have said such? How many of you ladies have heard such from a gentleman? Well, if you have, then you should inquire much more about said interaction. In a past conversation, a young lady pointed out to me that men tend to use the term “home girl” to describe a woman with whom they are seemingly plutonic friends BUT have either (a) already had sex or (b) have tried to have sex but it fell through for some reason they don’t likely want to discuss readily. In analyzing the usage of the term in my own life, I’d have to say that ish was pretty damn accurate. The home girl is often the “friend” that probably could have or should have been the significant other but ultimately wasn’t for some reason that likely has a rather elaborate story that may just lead you to question the boundaries of that friendship, especially if they still talk or hangout alone.
“Oh, she’s like my little sister.”
Ok, so I have several “little sisters” but they’re all legit. One is my blood sister, whom I love muy mucho. The others are the sisters of my ace boon coons whom I have adopted as my own as well (although there is one in particular that I adopted begrudgingly because she’s pretty gotdamn fine…and I’m sure it’s not hard to figure out if you know my MC circle). Beyond that, I don’t find too many other situations where “little sister” is someone safe from getting smashed. “Little sister” is, as the adjective suggests, often someone younger for whom they may provide “brotherly” services, such as school tips, life guidance, and the occasional trip to the liquor store if they’re underaged. The problem with this title is that most guys are extremely shallow, likely much more effed up than most ladies could ever conceive. We’re not going to adopt some Aflac-ass geezer as family. Hell naw. We’re adopting the sexy ass younger chicks as “little sisters” with hopes of either getting with their young friends or even being incestuous and getting with little sister ourselves.
This is the deal. Handle accordingly.
“Oh, we’re just friends.”
I can’t speak on this too specifically because it’s just plain too broad. You need to ask more follow-up questions to get a more detailed history. Chances are, she’ll either be a REAL friend who he hasn’t tried to smash or she’ll fit into one of the other two categories, which have already been addressed.
Since I am writing my stream of thoughts, I feel it necessary to share with you all a thought that’s really been running around in my mind pretty frequently as of late. If you’ve read any significant amount of my works, you know quite well that I’m a VERY pensive person, analyzing and dissecting every word, thought, event as though it’s a piece of evidence in a forensic lab. The notion I’ve really had trouble explaining and accepting as it stands is the notion of “friends…by default.”
Say I meet person A at revisit 2007. I make some sly remarks, pour her a few drinks, dance with her all night at the club in a very suggestive manner, take her out to eat and whatnot during the fall… basically court her for some extended period of time, after which (for whatever reason) we ultimately do NOT enter a relationship together but still choose to interact with each other socially. Seeing as how we already likely have some intimate knowledge of each other and have developed some repoire, it wouldn’t be so far-fetched for most to consider us “friends.”
…but that’s not the job I wanted. I wanted to be that guy; I wanted to be HER guy. And I’m not. I am the relationship equivalent of Hillary Clinton and am what many may consider the next best thing – the friend by default. And we move along with our lives amicably, for the most part, still interacting in some socially acceptable manner and chit chatting like we are and have always been “just cool” knowing well, in the back of one or both of our minds, that we are in a suboptimal place in this two person dynamic.
The part of this that gives me pause is a question of motive: If we become good friends, is it truly because we both want to be good friends or is it because one of us is hoping to be that penis/vagina in a glass case that will be broken in the event of an emergency? Can she really trust me with all her deep, dark secrets if I’m covertly trying to creep my way into her heart? These questions are rhetorical to me. In this case, I’m simply playing my role, buying my time until the opportunity arises where I can get that promotion and become Head of State.
…but I’m a guy. And guys are more prone to doing that. Women? …not so much.
Having spent so much time as a single man over the past 3 years, I’ve had lots of female “friends” come in and out of my life, quite a few of whom I’d actually grown rather close to and made some connections I sincerely thought would last a lifetime. However, last year, I lost a good, oh, 6 or 7 of those friendships when I very publicly announced that I was in a relationship with someone other than any of them.
Now why would that be?
While most of you could very likely formulate several reasons for this, the one that seems most likely (and was the case upon further evaluation) was that ALL of them wanted to be the Mrs. They wanted the title that mattered.
My first instinct was to be flattered that so many really thought so highly of me that they turned down the advances of so many other men in hopes that I would “put a ring on it” (hate that duckin song, btw). My next thought wasn’t quite as happy: How much of our interactions in the past were influenced by her desire to be with me? Was she really playing Guitar Hero because she loved to play or was it to appear cool in my eyes? Was she watching football because she loved the sport or was it to win favor with me? Sure, these things appear harmless to some, but to me they smell of insincerity and illusion. Since much of why we enter into a particular relationship is based on what we’ve experienced and gauged for ourselves as worthy of commitment, the possibility that I was interacting with and in some cases loving someone’s representative for long periods of time has the latent effect of making me very untrusting of women who seem “too perfect.” And what happens every time we try to generalize in our dealings with potential significant others? We miss out on the great ones.
Speaking of missing out on great ones, it really breaks my heart to see really good women go bad or sour because of a messed up relationship from their past. They gave their all to the wrong guy and now they’re pissed at anything with a penis. And while the part of me that’s all about self preservation is understanding of this, there’s another part of me that’s experienced enough to note that men with a good and ready heart often sense this in women and run to their aid, often offering their own love and service in not only getting this woman back onto her emotional feet but also in helping her to run faster and longer than she did before in a relationship that will help her grow and become a better woman than she was before. Instead, these men often receive the cold shoulder and are dissed as just another man “running game” or their used as shoulders on which to cry and express their anguish but are passed over for yet another guy with bad intentions.
Explain this one to me, ladies.
If you’re sitting alone at night, wondering why no one wants you or why all the men who approach you aren’t shit, take a second to pause and establish those who are in your life and their capacity. If there’s a guy who’s always been there, who’s given you that shoulder to cry on, to listen to your rants about all the ducked up things men have done to you in your past, to take you out to eat or to the movies when you don’t want to go alone, take a page out of the men’s book and be logical about that friendship and ask yourself “Why not him?” The man you’ve always wanted may have already been there, just waiting for you to give him the chance.
Yes. He was your friend “by default.”
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