I seem to have developed a pattern in how I write this blog. For months it’ll vanish from my mind, resigned to the dark corner of my brain along with old cartoons, street names and maths. Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes (and yes I get the melodrama) it resurfaces again, usually inspired by someone with more talent forcing me to up my game. And so my first post of 2012 begins like so…

The Friend Zone.
The social equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle, where “men” go in and friends come out. It’s a horrible fact of life for us men but, and this is news to us, we can’t sleep with all the women we know?! Some of them do legitimately just want to be friends! Now women, you’ve been keeping this a secret from men all over the world for a while now haven’t you? You lure men in with the prospects of sex, or at the very least a bumbling attempt, and when momentum starts to slip, you pop him in the friend zone. A cruel, cruel fate.
Okay so I’m kind of missing the point, I get it. Men and women do need to be friends and the friend zone is the natural resting point of all male/female relationships that are based on friendship as opposed to anything else. But the “friend zone” has never been said with smiles, it has never been the first choice destination. It’s a bit like a budget airline flight, you get on with the intention of going to sunny Spain, for fun, sun and sex. Unfortunately, the plane got diverted mid-flight, so you’ve had to step off and wonder around Cornwall for while. And some people just never leave Cornwall…

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