Social Blackout – Day 27

Day 27 – The ‘Friends’ Conundrum

WARNING! I talk about my feelings. Yuck.

When does one know when one is an “emotional fluffer?” Surely we can’t all be as wise and knowing as Nick here. The most common perspective is that the man is always the fluffer. I dare say that women are more likely to fall into this status but are instead labeled as merely the friend with whom the guy is comfortable to be around totally. At least that is what I’ve perceived. And when does the fluffer become the fluffee? What happens when both parties have entered both roles without realizing? The latter situation, I admit, revolve around a couple of dummies. But it happens.

I’ve not been with anyone for more than two or three dates, I’m extremely picky, and I live inside the delusion that no guy is good enough. It’s true, I’ve deviated from my pickiness once or twice. The first had a disastrous end, and the second was an eye-opener on where I had placed in the many unstable levels of friendship between a woman and a guy — at least guy #2 had the balls to be up front instead of fill my head with sweet somethings then leave the country without so much as a goodbye. That was the long and short of it, anyway.

I was never encouraged to date. The thought of having a boyfriend was never romanticized in front of me, around me, or within me. I was too busy trying to be more like the smart/obedient girl in class so I can get my mother to stop comparing me to her. It was more of the same in high school but I was also busy with karate. Karate was my life. I had ONE crush through those whole four years, and it was very off and on. After that I went to an all women’s college, so men were barely little blips on my radar.

I lived through the many relationships my friends had. I watched one become emotionally abused (of course I didn’t just stand by), I comically rolled my eyes and gagged at the sappy relationship my roommate was in during our entire year of living together (there was even baby talk, people), and I uncomfortably comforted a friend while she cried over my shoulder after witnessing a bad break-up. If just sitting on the sidelines was that emotionally exhausting, I’ll be damned if I go through any of that myself.

I refuse to relate myself to a Taylor Swift song.


My mom has always fantasized aloud (in front of me) that I would soon meet a nice, rich, secure man and marry him. Can you hear me gagging? Over the past few months, those hopes became more frequent. It has gotten to the point where my aunt and, worse, my aunt’s husband have begun to do the same. My aunt has since relented in her efforts but her husband has gone to obnoxious levels to get me with any guy with a pulse. His main target are the Navy recruits and Nuke students that shuffle through our church. He thinks the limited timeline between their coming to Charleston to the time they have to deploy will kick my uterus into gear. Yeah, that’s a great big negatory on that one…ass.

Let me tell you something about recruits and Nukes in case you don’t already know: A good 80% of them are practically infants. Some are right out of high school, others just graduated from college. While the college grads aren’t as bad as the ones who still carry the TEEN card, I still feel like I’m robbing the cradle in some way, like I’m Demi Moore looking for her Ashton Kutcher… UGH! I’d be a pre-cougar!

Here’s where the “However…” part comes in. With all of this pushing, I’m suddenly aware of that thought of “Maybe I should start exploring this world of relationships.” For someone who thought she was willing to do just that three years ago and came out feeling like the many deaths of Lara Croft… On second thought, let’s not look for a relationship. (And this is where my tireless “wisdom” kicks in) So if not a relationship, at least find someone with whom I can be completely comfortable. A Nick Miller to my Jessica Chance before they kiss.

Enter Guy #3.

We started out as good acquaintances, and then good friends. He’s funny, a good friend, loves Joss Whedon… The fact that he just happens to be ruggedly handsome is a plus. He’ll do. Oh the folly that is my own hubris! My confidence has betrayed me! When will I learn that lying to the heart just becomes an inevitable truth? In my efforts to gain a male friend whom I can completely trust with my thoughts and feelings, to lie down beside without the expectation of coitus, and to go out and have drinks with (yes, we did all of these things), I ended up wanting that stupid, that dreaded label I’ve been trying to avoid. I dare not speak its name.

*Gasp!* What if I’M the fluffer?

What makes this hilarious, is that we’ve already flung the “friend card?” at each other, he more than I. Now I want to take it back.

Why the question mark after “friend card”? I like to think neither of us know where we stand, but this could be yet another confused me caught in the deluge of over thinking. I blame Rachel and Chandler for their “Will they, Won’t they” dance that endured for 10 seasons. For a while, I thought maybe we were in that, but now I’ve resigned to the possibility that it’s all in my head. The temptation here is to use our mutual friends and have them gather information. Y’know, what kids do in middle school… *rolls eyes*

My solution is to bury myself in my work, hope I get this new job, move the eff out of my parents’ house and away from their endless pressure to find a mate. I feel like if I remove some of the weight of everyone’s great expectations, I’ll have less of a need for a fluffer. Priorities 🙂


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