Can Men and Women be Friends?

In my twenties, I learned that friends who fall in love with you will ultimately fall in hate with you. Resentment and irrational hope will do that. By the time they’ve learned that “no” doesn’t mean “not yet”, you’re emotionally invested. You’re tangled up in a friendship you have to untie. Nobody ever died from losing a friend, of course, but the “I-love-you-I-hate-you-how-dare-you-fuck-you” rollercoaster isn’t my idea of fun. I prefer teacup rides.

I realised I was being unambiguous about my disinterest. In trying to protect men’s feelings, I was doing little to protect my own. I used to smooth down my supposedly unequivocal “nevers” with enough niceties to baffle them. Honesty can fix a thousand problems, and unrequited love is not the least of them.

Indirectness causes more hurt feelings than honestly ever will. In my thirties, I decided I could overcome this problem with clarity: “We will never fuck. And by “never” I mean “never.” If you’re unsure about how “never” is defined, please use the dictionary placed conveniently in that bookshelf right there.”

It never worked. And by “never” I mean “never.” They only trusted my disinterest when I got involved with another man. These men refused to respect my boundaries, but they usually respected those of another man.

Then they’d disappear from my life, and while I empathised, I also missed them. For a while, I simply ended friendships the minute I saw one-sided desire, but I’d always wonder if I was making a grave mistake. People are treasures, and I didn’t want to lose anyone unnecessarily.

When I reached my forties, I had two male friends who had not-so-secret crushes. One was my friend for 14 years, the other, six. For a while, there was no drama in these relationships. I expressed my unwillingness to entertain their romantic feelings, then considered the subject too irrelevant to discuss. I thought my word seemed unequivocal, but some men just won’t believe a woman when she expresses her desires and tastes.

In the end, that 14-year friendship evaporated. I can’t tell you why because I still don’t know. All I have are his romantic feelings and inexplicable resentment. I changed. He changed, but we didn’t change in the same ways. I became a hardened feminist, so I stopped allowing him to bring a sexual tone to our friendship.

He seemed comfortable with my rejection, but only if he got to be leery. You (yes, you) taught me that wasn’t okay. You taught me that if someone feels entitled to my body, they're not entitled to my time.

It’s taking a veritable infinity to recover from that 14-year friendship because I learned it wasn’t a friendship at all—just an outlet for the romantic feelings of a tired man.

This is what Nice Guys buy you: Salt, water, and tears.

Men and women can be friends. I’ve learned this, but such friendships are rare.

My post-feminism self has grown new attachments to a few male friends, whom I love dearly. They value me as a human rather than a body. I trust them implicitly because I’ve learned how to identify good values. Thanks, feminism, for teaching me how to identify nice guys and their lies.

I’m often accused of hating men because I tend to write a lot of shouty posts about creepers. The truth is that those posts are lessons I have learned, and they’ve allowed me to make room for good men.