V-DAY: The dreaded friend zone

There are many tragic things in this world: birds who can’t fly, kids who want to play in the NBA but will never break 6 feet, Lindsay Lohan, and the career of a child star. But more tragic than any of these is “The Friend Zone.” It is not a chain of entertainment facilities.

Some of you might not have problems with this phenomenon. If so, you’re probably not a real person. What really seems to get people with it is how much it defies their logic. Every person who’s carried a torch for their best friend does so because it makes perfect sense in their mind. Technically a good relationship is an excellent friendship plus sex. I’m no Kinsey, but that’s the sole existence of The Friend Zone: a close relationship with a lack of mutual physical attraction between the two parties.

The thing you’re most likely to hear as you enter The Zone is, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” This is a genuinely bad excuse. It might be hard for people to step into unfamiliar territory, but I’ve yet to hear one of my friends ever say they regretted saying this familiar phrase. We can all agree that life is not like the love stories we see in cinema. Usually Harry meets Sally, and that’s as far as it goes.

Rejection hurts. This is normal. What kills the friended, and not the friendee, is that the torch-bearer has been emotionally invested in a potential relationship for a long period of time. If you’re withholding your feelings, every casual hangout is like the Hoover Dam, a continual force of emotions held back by fear and social stigmas.

I probably sound extremely bitter. It’s just emotional battle scars on the subject. Starting in high school, I became the Duckie to a Molly Ringwald for seven years. Those years included two half-assed, “Say Anything”-style declarations of feelings. It’s hell. You can’t change how you feel unless you’re willing to subject yourself to mental reconditioning like “A Clockwork Orange.”

 But I can say this: It is an amazing relief to get your feelings out there. Even with rejection, having the weight removed from your soul is infinitely better than shouldering that angst until you die.

On Valentine’s Day, I encourage you to commit social suicide. Even if you know you don’t have a chance, tell that person what’s going on inside your head. Not because you might get lucky, but because you’ll sleep amazingly that night. Eating an entire carton of ice cream while crying will do that.