To hear some tell it, there is no crueller torture a woman can inflict upon a man than to be his friend. Because, as the saddest sad men of the internet will happily explain to you at length, men and women can’t really be friends. Any woman who think she has male friends is fooling herself; all her supposed male friends have ulterior motives, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
They want to take her to the Bone Zone, in the parlance of our time, but she has put them in the Friend Zone instead, a hellish sexless purgatory that only the exquisitely charming and wholly fictional Jim Halpert on The Office has been able to escape. Such, at least, is the Friend Zone myth.
I’ve read a lot of silly things about the alleged evils of the alleged Friend Zone over the years, mostly in the form of terrible memes or scary rants on some misbegotten misogynist subreddit. But the silliest thing I’ve read on the subject for some time is a post that went up earlier this week on The Federalist, a right-wing media outlet with a heavy Christian bent.
In “Why Men and Women Can Never Be ‘Just Friends,'” Lutheran pastor and “comical video” maker Hans Fiene argues that we need to “tear down the Friend Zone” so American men and women can marry younger and “raise our sagging birth rates” so the world won’t run out of babies.
No, really.
All of us need to start having more babies or else the upcoming demographic tsunami will consume our nation, cripple our social programs, and leave us with a future so bleak that our only source of joy will be the moment we’re chosen to receive the sweet, fatal kiss of the Obamacare Death Panels, the Trumpcare Firing Squads, or the OprahCare Hemlock Squadrons.
Despite the achingly off-key “humor” at the end there — did I mention that Fiene makes “comical videos” on the side? — this argument, such as it is, is meant in all seriousness. As Fiene sees it, every day America’s hapless males waste in the Friend Zone is a day they could be making babies with a loving wife.
Being caught in the Friend Zone is an inarguable drag on fertility rates, as a man who spends several years pledging his heart to a woman who will never have his children is also a man who most likely won’t procreate with anyone else during that time of incarceration. Free him to find a woman who actually wants to marry him, however, and he’ll have several more years to sire children who will laugh, create, sing, fill the world with love and, most importantly, pay into Social Security.
Quite simply, for the sake of our future, the Friend Zone must be destroyed.
Fiene’s case against the Friend Zone is if anything even sillier than his demographic alarmism. He begins by sketching out the true horror of the purgatory that is the Friend Zone.
Every year, countless young men find themselves trapped in the Friend Zone, a prison where women place any man they deem worthy of their time but not their hearts, men they’d love to have dinner with but, for whatever reason, don’t want to kiss goodnight.
Fiene is apparently baffled and appalled by the notion that any woman might want to have dinner with a man without wanting — literally — to have his babies.
The women of America, he argues, need to accept two harsh truths: “you don’t have any guy friends and, in fact, you can’t have any guy friends” — because any dude who likes to spend time alone with a woman actually just wants to get with her.
Fiene has a rather hackneyed notion of what men are looking for in a friend — basically a dudely dude type
who shares his interest in activities such as watching movies where things explode, playing video games where things explode, or putting fireworks in things so they’ll explode.
And in Fiene’s mind, women just aren’t qualified for that position, which strikes me as a rather strange contention because, well, my best friend IS a woman, and we have spent many hours over many years “watching movies where things explode [and] playing video games where things explode.”
We’ve also spent many hours watching Project Runway, and gleefully mocking the worst dressed at the Academy Awards. Because we’re actual human beings whose interests don’t map directly onto hackneyed stereotypes of what men and women enjoy. (She does have a hard time convincing me to watch Jane Austen movies though.) Oh, and we have no interest in sex or romance with each other; we enjoy those things with other people.
But I guess I’m delusional to think she and I are real friends, because everything she provides, friendship-wise, could apparently be provided much more efficiently by another dude. As Fiene sees it, “the average male coworker, male neighbor, or male Nepalese yak herder is better at producing masculine companionship” than women. Indeed, as Fiene (or his editor) declares in a big bold subhed, “There’s Only One Thing You Can Give His Man Friends Can’t.”
And, no, that isn’t “vagina.” It’s “vagina in the context of a loving marriage,” though Fiene doesn’t put it quite that baldly.
Addressing his female readers directly, Fiene tells them that when a man signs you up as a friend,
It’s not because he wants your friendship. It’s because he wants to convince you to open up the supply chain of a romantic relationship to him, and he foolishly believes he can do so by being a loyal friendship customer. “Pay my dues in the Friend Zone,” he thinks, “and one day she’ll promote me to boyfriend.”
Fiene assures the ladies that
Just because men don’t want to be your friend, however, doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy your company. They most certainly do. They love discovering how you see the world, what you think about life, the universe, and everything. They love your kindness, thoughtfulness, sensitivity, support, and your nurturing heart. They love being in your presence when you display the wonders of the feminine virtues.
At least when those “feminine virtues” come as part of a package deal with vagina — though, again, Fiene puts it a bit more delicately.
[B]ecause God designed these [feminine] virtues to entice men into marriage, the average man will never be content to receive those gifts in a form of companionship that doesn’t lead to marriage. Quite simply, men can’t be at peace being just friends. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. Platonic chilling won’t stop your inner (and outer) beauty from pulling a man towards romantic love.
So what is to be done? The women of America need to clear out their Friend Zones — kicking the guys they don’t find attractive to the curb and marrying up those guys who at least sort of stir their loins a little.
First, he informs the female reader, she needs to address those Friend-Zoned men who don’t
fill you with the biological desire to repopulate the earth? If not, then do your “friend” a solid and let him go. Call him up and tell him, “It’s not my fault that your facial symmetry grosses out my ovaries, but it was my fault that I got your hopes up by putting you in the Friend Zone. As restitution, please accept the phone numbers of five girls I know who find you attractive. Stop wasting your time with me and go hang out with a girl who might one day bear your children.”
Apparently Fiene thinks human beings talk to each other like that.
“Conversely,” Fiene continues,
if you find your guy friend attractive, and if you see him as a man of character and heart, then call him right now and tell him that he was placed in the Friend Zone due to a clerical error. Say to him, “You make me laugh and would be a great husband and father. Clearly, you need to be on the express track to the Marriage Zone.”
How … romantic?
Fiene concludes his strange little anti-Friend Zone manifesto with a stirring paean to the transcendent glories of … increased baby production.
So get brave. Get married. Get pregnant a bunch of times and give birth to a bunch of beautiful little future taxpayers. The time has come to fight for our future. The time has come to rebuild America’s demographic glory atop the rubble of the fertility-killing Friend Zone.
I think I’ll pass, thanks!
So who exactly is this manifesto supposed to inspire? Nothing in it bears much resemblance to the world I live in. Fiene’s resolutely heteronormative, baby-centric utopia offers nothing to the gay, bi, or trans folk I know, nor is it going to appeal to those with no interest in traditional marriage and/or children. Hell, its visions of masculinity and femininity are so constricted they don’t even fit most of the straight, cis people I know.
I certainly wouldn’t want to be trapped in the Fiene Zone, that’s for sure.
It happens! It’s really not that big of a deal. I’ve been on both sides of it, both the one who wasn’t interested in a very dear male friend, and who another dear male friend wasn’t interested in. It stings, but women aren’t beset by constant movies where we “get” the male friend after being in the semi mythical Friend Zone. So I never felt terribly entitled to have guys just falling all over themselves for me because I was willing to spend “friend coins” on them in exchange for sex.
Plus, I do like men, as people, so while a boyfriend would be a big win, a guy friend is still a definite win to me. 🙂
(I have a bit easier time being friends with men than women anyway, as I was bullied terribly by girls as a child and have to really work to trust my own gender properly.)
Also, something I don’t get: what’s this thing with “OprahCare and hemlock whatever the fuck it was”? Did something happen that I didn’t catch wind of?
@Axe
Much obliged, my dude.
It’s Numbskull-to-English Translation Time! Are you ready? Here goes…
Translation: I’m scared shitless that non-white immigrants are going to come in and turn ME into a minority, and treat ME as poorly as white people have been treating them all this time! And, tellingly, my mind goes straight to the Nazi concentration camps for bad metaphors! Why the hell is that, I wonder?
Translation: I, a morally prudish straight white man, am more sexually obsessed than all the minorities, whether religious, racial, sexual or genderwise, that I label as “degenerates”! And it’s all the fault of women who won’t sleep with me! Pity my sad boner!
Translation: I have no friends, and I’m no fun at parties.
Translation: I am hopelessly selfish and have no idea how to BE a friend. This is why I have no friends. And this is why my boner is sad, too.
Translation: I’m so obsessed with all the nookie I’m not getting that I reach for sublimation in the form of sexual metaphors so Freudian that Freud himself would slap me upside the head for using them.
Translation: I’m dropping niceness coins in the vending machine and pushing the button, waiting for sex to fall out. Why is no sex falling out?
Translator’s note: Sorry, no translation here. If anyone needs me, I’ll be slumped over a toilet, vomiting.
Translator’s note: Literally no woman EVER says anything like this to a guy who’s pestering her for sex. Especially since most of our male friends AREN’T pestering us for sex, since they’re either content to do without and simply enjoy our company on its own merits, or are already partnered and don’t need us to set them up. And if they DO need us to set them up, it’s amazing how up-front many of them are about it, and say something like, “Hey, do you have any single friends?” or “Your friend Susie So-and-so is cute. Do you think she’d go out with me?”
In short: We don’t have to make this kind of offer, and that’s a good thing. Because if we ever did, the guy would probably look at us like we’d lost our minds. And quite rightly.
Translator’s note: Again, this is something literally no one ever says. Because the guy would look at us like we’d just confessed to being a robotic alien lizard invader, or something like that.
Translation: I’m really, REALLY afraid of boatloads of non-white immigrants coming in and making a minority of me. I don’t know where these hypothetical little white future taxpayers are going to get jobs that will pay enough wages to be taxable, especially since robots are about to take them all. I just want all you white chicks to get pregnant incessantly and wing it so I don’t feel like the only stupidly insecure white guy around, all right?
Translator’s note: Phew. That was EXHAUSTING. Being inside these guys’ heads is worse than a migraine.
His favourite scripture is Gen iii: 16.
The only one I can even think of right now is Some Kind of Wonderful. Even that’s a little different than the standard friend zone story. Amanda isn’t portrayed as an asshole. She’s a sympathetic character. We’re not meant to think she’s evil from derailing Keith and Watts from getting together. The story is also mostly told from Keith’s perspective. The audience is meant for him to want to “get” Amanda until we discover along with him that she’s not the one. Keith is never portrayed as a shallow asshole for wanting the beautiful popular girl instead of the tomboyish best friend.
Odd to hear someone on the hard right praising the idea of paying taxes . . .
If this dude had only written an article addressed to the men who think they’ve been friend zoned telling them to stop lying to people who think of them as friends and move on, it would have been fine. But noooo, women have to manage men’s emotions all the time, even when the men in question are supposedly actively lying about what they want.
@Hippodameia
Must have been a tough decision for him. Rail against taxes, or dehumanize children?
http://img.gawkerassets.com/img/17kvr6xfsl7snjpg/original.jpg
For the Dragon Age fans interested in behind the scenes stuff, Laura K. Buzz wrote an article about the creation of Krem and how consultants really helped his backstory because holy crap was his backstory before bad wow.
Meanwhile, in other chucklefuck news, we have this guy, who thought the best way to get himself de-friendzoned was to relentlessly harass his own employee once she hit the legal age.
Stepping away to hunch over the toilet again now.
I feel like I’ve been mortally insulted. I’ve been talked down to by a Lutheran pastor who insists I can’t think with any organ but my dick, and implied that I’m lesser for prizing empathy and kindness in myself and other men.
I’d feel skeeved out by his creepy interest in my girlfriend’s and my potential future children…but my girlfriend’s not white, so I doubt he’d care.
Oh…oh geez, I was totally misreading Mark’s comment. I thought it was called the “Dark Enlightenment” because it involved the Eurocentric destruction of human reason and making the whole world a substantially dimmer place.
@ numerobis
Well, there’s your problem right there! Who ever heard of sex for love rather than clinical economic procreation?
Most of the people on the right tend to like social security. It’s something old white people get so it’s okay.
First, Japan is good for creative freedom of artistic expression , but it is — to use your own terms — “problematic” for a social security system. The worst case scenario is that the purebred Japanese wil actually be functionally extinct as a race and a nation in as soon as a century or so, give or take a couple of decades, because ever fewer people are breeding or even pairbonding. Even right now, it is already an inverted population pyramid!
Second, why not, hypothetically speaking, the cyborg hybrid progeny of men and machines (and women and machines as well, Technology can be progressively inclusive too you know) would have much more efficient and efficacious metabolisms and mentalities than traditional humans, so they could indeed work the multiple shifts on multiple jobs to make up for the gap in the labor workforce, the slack in the consumer market, and the deficit in the taxpayer base.
Yeah, but they don’t want to pay for it themselves. Tax cheating is a virtue to that crowd, especially when the tax cheats are wealthy to begin with. (As in the Apricot Abomination’s claims that not paying taxes makes him “smart.”)
My father subscribed to a Christian magazine that instructed us that young people who were dating should not, I repeat not, kiss — unless and until they were engaged.
Now I’m all confused.
Five? Five! That guy doesn’t need any help at all.
There’s no way that would scare him off.
Asking again: what is this connection being made between Oprah and hemlock?
“Demographic tsunami?” Dude, no. You sound like Steve King. No mention of race, but there didn’t need to be: American demographics aren’t sagging, they’re changing. If this worries you, friendzone jokester, you might as well admit you’re actually worrying about “white genocide.”
http://i.imgur.com/DzLNP1f.jpg
Eugenics, you’re bringing up eugenics. Fuck right the hell off with treating an entire nation like some damn dog breed.
EDIT: The internal power struggle is real.
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/05/us/politics/national-security-council-stephen-bannon.html
@Troubelle
I assume that this is the connection, although it does seem that she was joking:
Oprah Winfrey Entertains Idea of Running for President
http://variety.com/2017/biz/news/oprah-winfrey-president-donald-trump-1201999846/
The minister-author is afraid of people who don’t look like him.
‘Purebred Japanese’ is a phrase that should be used when talking about Shiba Inus, not humans.
Humbug, you fuckwit,
You made the claim that hetero male sexuality is being harmed by feminazis censoring Japanese media though.
Here
and here
I even bolded for you!
So, if feminazi SJWs are censoring sexy media and killing male libidos in the “west” and Japan is sex positive and kind towards male heterosexuality, why is that say, USian or British men are having more sex and are more interested in sex than Japanese men?
Also, I wanna know what Humbug is doing personally to increase the birthrate.
Humbug, one of Japan’s problems is the stupid ideas of racial purity that still float around in official policy. Just look at the nonsense Japan born Koreans have to go through, even though their families have lived in Japan for several generations. The youngest generation in particular may be ethnically Korean but are primarily culturally Japanese, whatever their individual legal status. Meanwhile the extreme difficulties for non-Japanese to acquire Japanese citizenship risk creating an increasing pool of guest workers who have no real loyalty to Japan, and who have no interest in becoming participants in Japanese culture.
Get over yourself, Humbug. My obachan approved of my Cajun father because she believed the gene pool needed a refill in order to have taller, smarter, healthier grandchildren, as any cattle rancher or farmer knows.
Lindsay Irene: Or the bobtail cats 🙂