Dear Hot Guy Who Has Friend – Zoned Me: An Open Letter
- Rahat Kapur
- Jul 21, 2015
- 5 min read
Dear Hot Guy-who-has-friend-zoned-me,
Hi, hey, what’s up? It’s me. You know the nice girl who you talk to every day? Thanks so much for your text last night asking for my advice on how best to turn down Stacey without hurting her feelings because you’re kind of into Nina at the moment. Especially after all that stuff that went down between you and Alexa, I mean really, it’s only fair that you need some guidance on what your next best move would be. Just one quick question though…
Why does it always have to be me who you ask for advice on what to do with the OTHER women in your life? I mean okay, sure, I get it. I’m a really great girl, obviously. I’m funny, I’m charming, I’m smart, I’m a great listener, I’m like a 7 on the attractiveness scale, it’s kind of hard not to think I’m amazing. I don’t blame you for wanting to reach out to me, you’re only human after all. I have no issues hanging out with you, being seen in public with you, talking to you all hours of the day, discussing life’s true problems like whether vanilla should really be considered a ‘flavour’ anyway or if Finding Nemo was actually about resolving the existential crisis of finding one’s true identity. I love our pointless, hilarious and banter-filled chats. You are great company, great fun and great to look at, therefore I would be insane to turn down a chance to get to know you.
So why, Hot Guy, why, do you gotta be like that and THROW A GIRL IN THE FRIEND-ZONE? Yes, you’re a 10 and sure I’m a 7, (totally 7.5 with some major spanx and my walking MAC stall face on), but that doesn’t mean you side-line me? I’m a girl with feelings, deep feelings and many of these feelings are for you. Feelings that I only reserve for the likes of Clooney or Gosling at the best of times. Do you even know how lucky you are that I’m willing to share these with you? Just when I think we’re progressing to that fine, giddy line between friendly and flirtatious, you seem to have a mental breakdown and bring up some girl named Binky who is an exotic foreign exchange student from something-slavia and instead of looking alluring and seductive, it looks like I’m spending all day batting my eyelashes at you because I have an incurable condition. What you need to learn is that Binky is never going to understand you like I do. I mean literally, because she doesn’t speak a word of English and pronounces your name so it sounds like a vegetable. I might be way wrong here but, somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be true love.
Do you know how many days, hours, minutes and seconds I’ve spent over-analysing everything you say and do Hot Guy? Like why you got to be so personal? Why do you need to tell me about your weekend? Why do I need to know about that tiny little boil you have on your third toe from the left on your right foot that you got when you were 5? What does it mean when you tap my shoulder one day but the next day you give me a hi-five (death to hi-fives and fist bumps FO REAL)? Why do we always hang out BUT YOU NEVER TELL ME YOU LOVE ME? WHY?
I will say this to you, you’re not the first hot guy, Hot Guy, to friendzone me and I can guarantee, you won’t be the last. I am just not that ‘IT Girl’ material. I’m a bit goofy, a bit funny, not so va-va voom and I’m also normal and not a cray cray biatch. This, I have come to learn, is the main prerequisite for being girlfriend material in 2015. Whilst I have at the best of times tried to up my cray-level, I am sorry to report, there are still traces of being a normal person left. I text back immediately, cause I’m a keeno. I am almost always free to hang out because, I like staring at you with your permission as opposed to from afar once in a while. I laugh at everything you say, because you are like, amazing. I offer my shoulder for you to cry on because I’m silently hoping you’ll just fall asleep there and wake up in half an hour all ‘The Vow’ and won’t remember that I’m not your girlfriend.
I don’t know how many more men I have to pretend like me before you get the hint that no one likes me cause they all friend-zoned me like a million years ago. Actually, that’s not strictly true. The creepy guy in the 3rd cubicle on the 5th floor LOVES me, but given I just described him as the creepy guy, you can tell this isn’t a torrid love affair waiting to happen. No, Jason from Legal doesn’t really want to take me on a date this Friday and Eric from Strategy is just some guy who I sat next to one time and he kept calling me Rabat the whole time. But what’s a girl to do when you keep telling her about Binky and Bonky?
Even though many of my male-friends have told me there is no such thing as the friend-zone between a man and a woman, I know they only say this because otherwise I will gauge their eyes out. The truth is, we can very much be friends, but I will never let this happen with you for as long as I don’t find someone hotter to move on to.
To summarise this heartfelt letter, on behalf of all the women out there who get friend-zoned because they’re just really, really nice girls who have no baby daddy issues and actually respond back to text messages within the first 15 minutes of receiving them, I offer you this piece of wisdom, Hot Guy. We may not be demanding, or dramatic, or high-strung. We may not be Size 6s or 8s and we may occasionally trip over our own foot when walking next to you (oh Lord, why am I reliving this tragic moment). We are only funny and sweet and charming because we secretly plan our wedding to you at night and never because we genuinely care if Binky never called you back (and she won’t because I threw her phone in the river). We’re really just waiting, playing the long game, trying to be your bestie so we can be your nextie (girlfriend).
We just want you to love us, like we love Ben & Jerrys and Ryan G and Dirty Dancing. We’ll never break your heart, because being this creepy with someone else takes a lot of effort and time and ain’t nobody got time for that when you’re around.
Love, Girl-who-always-gets-friend-zoned xx
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