You bring it up in conversation casually, like you aren’t working an angle, as though there isn’t an ulterior motive to your concern. “It’s such a shame” that the guys I decide to pick are treating me like shit, and you promise that you “would never do that.” You would “always text the girl the next day” and you “just don’t understand” how someone could be so mean to me.

The problem is, I never actually told you any of that.

I know exactly what you’re doing when you say it, because you’re the victim, aren’t you? You’re the one who’s hurt. When you tell me over and over again that you want me, like me, love me, and life would just be easier if I chose to feel the same.

Except I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t want you, like you, love you. I’m not your prize, your trophy, or your goal. I’m not your thing to win. This isn’t the episode of Big Bang Theory when Leonard finally convinces Penny to go out with him, and this isn’t an ‘80s romantic comedy where the girl realizes her guy friend is the one she loved the whole time. We’re in real life here, and when a girl says no, she means no.

But here we are, in a world when the friendzoned guy is just such a sad soul. All he wants is to be there for the girl, right? All he wants is for her to realize that his intentions are pure, that he loves her. Ross and Rachel, Ron and Hermione – it’ll work out one day. The friendzoned guy is the victim, the girl is the viper, and that’s how you’ll spin the story to anyone who asks.

Go right ahead.

I’m sorry that you feel this way, and I’m sorry you can’t move on. But the excuse of “it’s not you, it’s me” doesn’t apply here, because the problem is you. You dug yourself into this grave. I told you then, I’ll tell you now, I don’t feel the same, but you keep on coming back with the same professions of love, the same concern when I’m upset, the same attempts to bring me upstairs on Saturday night. You get so frustrated each and every time I go from guy to guy, but when did I ever promise I would put you on the list? When did I ever owe you something more? I didn’t sign a contract the day we became friends that I would suddenly open my legs for you.

And yet of course, your intentions are so pure.

But hey, keep trying buddy! Keep on sitting in the back! Since you know best about what I want, maybe one day I’ll change my mind.

So keep on dreaming, keep on deluding, keep that hope alive! But I have news for you, one thing you ought to know. You have this thought stuck in your brain of who you think you are. You’re the one I should feel safe with. Because one day, I’ll have too much to drink, and maybe I will go upstairs with you. Because you’re the great sweet guy, the good old friend. One day, I’ll choose you.

I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but buddy? You’re not that fucking nice.