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“We got close. Very close. It ruined our relationship.”
From what I’m told, the friend zone is a place that ruins lives, drives guys to insanity, and overall results in a miserable existence. If you’ve never been to the friend zone and wonder what it’s like, and this is based purely off speculation as I’ve never been there myself, I imagine it’s similar to living in Augusta, Georgia your entire life and never actually getting to play golf at Augusta National.
It’s the main attraction in town, even world renowned. You drive by it almost every day, you’re always close to it, and you can sense its aura and its mystique. One time you actually got to enter the grounds, but you didn’t get to see where the magic happens — only close enough to lay eyes on the pristine terrain and reaffirm what you already knew: she’s perfect.
Leave your sticks in the trunk, pal. You won’t be needing them. You’re never going to need them in that town. That 3-wood that you can’t hit for shit is never touching her turf, and you know it. Do you even deserve it? Are you good enough? At golf or as a person? She’s Augusta. Who are you? Some sloppily-statured hack with glaring flaws in his swing, amateur on-course etiquette, and a muni-track sense of style? You’re not Augusta material, are you? Just be happy you live close to her, and take your Top Flites and your 22 handicap to the nearest semi-private and have a ball.
Don’t forget to tune in in early April to watch other guys, guys who are much better than you at golf, and life in general, play on your dream course — your almost local home course.
The friend zone might feel something like that, or like this:
When a girl calls you to talk to about the blow job she just gave a guy, then you can talk to me about the damn friendzone.
— The Fat Fratter (@countryclubstar) January 9, 2014
Some sorry son of a bitch left this stain of a comment on my Twitter timeline recently. He’s been friend zoned. He’s been friend zoned long and hard.
If a girl tells you about a sexual act she performed on another guy, that means said sexual act will not ever be performed on you by said girl. If it slips out and she immediately retracts and refuses to provide any further information about it, you still have some hope. To the contrary, the further detail she divulges about the sexual encounter, the more she is driving the point home, intentional or not, that you will never be on the receiving end of what she is describing.
Now, this guy, he received a phone call specifically about a blowjob that he did not receive. It really doesn’t get more blatant than that. The next 1,000 blowjobs he receives will be performed by not-her.
I’m going to help him fix this situation. After he follows my 7-step, foolproof process, one of two things will happen: 1) he’ll leave the friend zone and enter the sex zone, or 2) it will absolutely destroy their friendship. Both options are advantageous for him.
Show. Her. The. Goods. She threw a jab at you. Throw a haymaker back at her. The following is the my 7-step process to leave the friend zone:
Step 1: Charge your phone to 100% battery life.
Step 2: Do as many pushups as you can in one minute.
Step 3: Get completely naked except for your tube socks.
Step 4: Oil up.
Step 5: Find the bathroom in your house with the best lighting.
Step 6: Unleash nudie hell on her for 60 minutes straight without stopping.
Step 6 requires further explanation. The goal here is to send as many graphic nudes of your goods as possible over the course of one hour. It doesn’t matter how offensive your situation down there looks, or how you measure up. It all works.
For maximum effect, might I recommend the foot-on-the-bathroom-counter approach. Put that foot up there so you’re hanging out in all your glory, get in real nice and tight with your phone, then take about 5,000 pictures from 1,000 different angles, each and every one of them with your meat square in frame. If you’re doing it right, it should sound like the camera clicks of 50 paparazzi on scene while a trio of Kate Upton, Miley Cyrus, and the Queen of England fall down while leaving an L.A. nightclub exposing an unprecedented triple beav shot.
Now, during this lewd photo shoot, you’re obviously going to get some serious pushback from this girl. It’s imperative that you completely ignore it. She’s gonna fire text after text at you, begging you to stop punching her in the face with your meat. Ignore her.
“Are you fucking serious?!?!”
“Please no more. This is totally disgusting.”
*double meat shot*
Step 7: After 60 minutes have passed, send the following text message to her: Oh damn. I sent these to the wrong person. Oh well, fuck it.
Your friendship may be over, but so is your imprisonment in the friend zone..