A few months ago, and for unknown reasons (because no one ever listens to me about anything), a certain male friend of mine - who shall remain nameless - approached me for advice. He first warned me of the intensely depressing nature of his story, and that it was likely to induce tears, fits of depression and strong cravings for chocolate. Thus prepared, I listened to his tale - an epic story of his trials and tribulations wandering, hopelessly lost, in the vast wasteland completely devoid of romance commonly known as The Friendzone.
But fear not, my friends - I will not be sending you sobbing to grief counseling with the contents of this column. This story has a happy ending. My friend is a ray of hope to all mankind, because he has managed the impossible: Very recently, he escaped The Friendzone and got the girl.
How did he manage this herculean feat, you ask? It's quite simple, he tells me, leaning back with a satisfied smirk, his arms crossed behind his head. In this one instance, as he stands poised on the verge of divulging this one tantalizing secret, he reminds me of "The Most Interesting Man in the World." In fact, I think that's even a Dos Equis he's casually sipping. In any event, it all boils down to this: He says that you must stop being nice.
Stop being nice! How revolutionary! The real truth of the matter is that girls hate it when you hold open the door for them, pay for their meals and notice when they get a haircut. It drives them crazy when you walk them home, listen to them cry and go out on midnight Tampax runs.
The secret to a girl's heart, according to my heroic friend, is to be the complete opposite of Mr. Right. If she asks how she looks, be honest when she's looking a little run-down, tired or bloated. Brush her off when she approaches you to vent about her horrible day. And never, ever, text her back.
I am skeptical, and I tell him so. He admits that this tactic is not for everyone. It is not for the fainthearted, the softies or the weak-kneed. True courage, dedication and strength of character are really required to pull off this charade. He likens it to climbing Mount Everest, the only thing standing between you and escape from the hated Friendzone. There's a lot of hard, unrewarding work involved. But once you reach the top - once you crest that final mountain - it's all smooth sailing. That is when you abandon your pretense and reveal your kind, loving nature, and she's so happy you're actually a nice guy that she swoons and falls into your well-defined, muscular arms, and the two of you ride away on a white pony into the crimson sunset.
Do I suggest you try this at home? Perhaps not. Yet it did work for my friend, as he's currently in a relationship with an amazing, intelligent girl (who's also drop-dead gorgeous). But is he the exception or the rule? Did he get the girl because of his actions, or in spite of them? If there's one thing I learned from stats, it's that it's very dangerous to extrapolate from a sample size of one. We might learn more if you all go out and adopt my friend's approach, but I won't be offended if you choose to stick to the safe route. As I said above, no one ever listens to me about anything - there's probably a reason.
Lex Erath is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. She can be reached at Alexandra.Erath@tufts.edu.
