Something About Change

Let’s completely dismantle the biggest myth in modern dating: the tragedy of the “Friend Zone.”

We’ve all heard men complain about it. We’ve read the think-pieces about the “mystique” of the perfect guy who gets relegated to the background because a woman “just doesn’t see him that way.” For years, I actually sat back and wondered, Damn. How many times did a woman trap me in relationship purgatory without me realizing it? Did I ever successfully claw my way out?

Then I did the math on my own life. And the truth completely shattered the matrix.

I realized that every single day of my life since 1999, I have been locked down. Now, the last 20 years are easy to explain; I’ve been married. But what about the years before that? When I look back at the timeline, there are zero gaps—no single summers. No “finding myself” eras. Literally, the exact millisecond I exited one relationship, I was already holding hands in the next one.

How did I secure a replacement that fast? I didn’t. They did.

The Ultimate Long Game

The conventional wisdom says men get trapped in the friend zone. The reality? Women use the friend zone as an underground waiting room, strategically positioning themselves on the active roster, just waiting for the starter to get injured so they can claim the jersey.

I wasn’t trapping anyone; I was being hunted by a highly organized corporate succession plan.

Every time a breakup happened, there wasn’t just someone ready to fill the position; they were actively willing, waiting, and probably already had their bags packed. They weren’t “just friends.” They were the front-office executives waiting for a sudden vacancy.

A Public Service Announcement for My Wife

Now, look, I am happily married and nowhere near the singles market. But if history has taught me anything, it’s that life is chaotic. And if history decides to repeat itself, my next relationship is probably currently texting me, “Aww, how is she?”

I’m saying all this to let my wife know: she is absolutely holding down the spot. But let’s be real, with the number of “female friends” I’ve accumulated over the decades, if a glitch in the matrix happens, she probably already knows exactly who is waiting in the wings to sign and take over as my new star player.

EDITOR’S NOTE:

To all my old female friends: It is with great mystery and sudden tragedy that I inform you my wife has “accidentally” wiped your numbers from my phone. Furthermore, because my device is strictly programmed to incinerate unknown callers, it appears our friendship has reached its natural conclusion. It’s been an honor.