I'm Hunter. 26. I've been through some shit. I'm either the most positive or the most cynical dude you'll ever meet. Grind/doom meets pop-punk. I will fawn over pictures of Aubrey Plaza. If you like British humor and M.C. Escher, my pants are over there. You may wear them, but I want them back.
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thoughts on the friendzone
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time. one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention. i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes. there’s no room for nice guys like me.”
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. being friendly. i thought we were friends. but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me. he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.
“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”
they were
“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. that he just wanted her for a relationship. a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
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Men who claim feminism: some things to consider...
Yesterday it was brought to light (by people calling him out AND of his own volition) that an individual who has been involved in many scenes and punk circles has sexually assaulted and emotionally abused and manipulated seven women and possibly more. Those are just the ones that have come forward.
This man claimed to be an outspoken feminist in the time that I have known him.
MEN. This is why talk is cheap. This is why words aren’t worth much.
This is why you need to check your privilege and why you need to understand that it is important that guys get called out for even “minor” instances of misogyny. Because there are men who claim feminism and then abuse women behind closed doors. We quite literally have to be cautious of every man who claims to be on our side because it could quite very well be dangerous to us.
Your pride is not more important than our safety especially in OUR movement.
Your actions speak louder than words.
I no longer take a male’s vocalization of feminist ideals at face value. Anyone can repeat ideas and words.
What does leave an impression on me is how a man behaves when he is challenged about his privilege.
How he reacts when called out about problematic behavior.
How he participates in discussions about feminism. Is he dominating the discussion or is he amplifying the voices of other women?
Does he understand what consent means?
Can he rationalize that patriarchy is damaging in a way that does not require him to equate it to a situation in which the woman involved is a person he cares about (ex: “what if that was your mother/sister/girlfriend?”)
Is the selling point of feminism for him “patriarchy is damaging to men too”? Or does understand that that is NOT the reason patriarchy is ultimately detrimental and oppressive?
Does he participate in being self aware about his physical presence in a space (ex. Not violently thrashing around at a show where it is very clear that that is not a safe or comfortable thing to do for the people surrounding you. Ex 2: not overpowering a woman to get her spot up front or completely smothering her in the crowd)?
Does he understand and accept there are spaces and places and things that are not for him and that he is not entitled to anything and everything and everyone?
Does he understand that feminism needs to be intersectional? That women of color, trans women, disabled women et al (read: non cis gender straight white women) need to be amplified and that simply adopting White Feminism™ is incredibly toxic?
Does he understand that trust and respect is earned and none of that gives him any entitlement to a woman’s time or body?
Feel free to add to the list.
We can’t simply take you at your word. If you don’t understand this, then you have no place in our movement because our safety comes first. And if you have an issue with this, take it up with men like the guy I mentioned in this post. There are predators and abusers who appropriate our cause for personal gain. It’s sick that we can’t even be safe anywhere.
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What if someone got bitten by a vampire, but didn’t realize it. So then they go around and keep misidentifying all the symptoms, like
“Dude, you haven’t gone outside in a while.” “Yeah, last time I went out I got this wicked sunburn.”
“Are you still up?” “Yeah, I started bing watching this show on Netflix.”
“Dude, I’m seriously craving something right now.” “Like what?” “I dunno. Pizza rolls?”
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do you ever just like suddenly realize that you would totally date one of your friends
not like that you actively have a crush on them or anything
but like “you are so amazing and great and if you wanted to date me i would be extremely okay with that plan, but if you don’t want to do that i am content to never mention anything about it and i will happily continue being friends and enjoying you platonically”
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adults: “what are your plans for the summer?” “what are you planning on studying in college?” “what do you want to do in the future?”
me:
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On the left we have the lyrics from Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. On the right we rape survivors participating in Project Unbreakable, showing the various things that were said to them by their rapist.
From the Mouths of Rapist: The Lyrics to Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines
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