Before “situationship,” “ghosting,” and the many other dating terminologies of Gen Z that torment people who are currently looking for love, Millennials had their own counterpart of agony: the “friendzone.”
In the previous era, both men and women were often confused about whether they were really “just friends.”
Feisty women would sometimes make bold, seemingly manipulative moves to get a man to message them or invite them somewhere—actions that could give the man hope that there was something more between them. Then, for whatever reason, the man would later hear the woman say, “Oh, we’re just friends.”
On the other hand, men would approach women saying they wanted to be friends with them. They would exchange text messages every day and spend more time with each other than they did with their other friends. If everything seemed to click, the man would eventually make his feelings known.
This setup brought agony to a lot of women back then. On Facebook, Friendster, and various forums, women would ask the general public whether certain actions from a man indicated deeper feelings or were purely platonic.
At that stage, the psychological power was, most of the time, but not always, on the side of the man—whether he would eventually find the courage to make his feelings known. Until that point, the woman was not supposed to fall in love.
If the man decided to exit, whether because he didn’t have the courage to pursue her or because he had simply become uninterested, his ego remained intact. The woman, meanwhile, was left misled by mixed signals.
Perhaps she was just misreading the situation.
Perhaps she was just overthinking.
Perhaps they really were just friends.
And I remember that I was not a good player in that field.
When a guy told me he wanted to become friends with me, I took it literally. When a man sent certain signals that conveyed interest, I would notice them, but I would remain nonchalant—because he had already said, “We’re friends.”
When he did something sweet or said something sweet that practically screamed his interest, my reaction would be to brush it off.
Even though, at some point, I liked the man too.
Even though I noticed everything.
Even though my senses were telling me there was something there.
My actions would still appear romantically uninterested, which would discourage the man from moving things forward. For which, my inner voice would confirm, “See, I told you. You were just a friend”.
Some men would even use my most trusted female friend as a way to get closer to me, which was a very wrong move. It would psychologically tortured me even further.
In the end, nothing was achieved.
Because they had already touched my inner demon.
The only reason I had a few official relationships was because I felt safe enough—and felt like I had nothing to lose—to ask these men directly whether they were actually interested in me or not.
And when they said yes, my mind finally allowed them to court me.
You see, people, including myself, do not like uncertainty.
For me, uncertainty is a form of psychological horror.
For more than 30+ years of my existence, I am only realizing this now.
During those moments of “being friends,” my trauma response was activated, and I froze. I didn’t know why I froze.
Perhaps love itself, is not complicated. Perhaps it is always present. But in order to get there, you have to tango with other people’s inner demons too.
Perhaps Rumi was right when he said, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”
And perhaps this is not only true in the area of love.
In other aspects of life, there are so many psychological barriers too.
These barriers are what make us freeze, fight, or flee. They keep us from taking action, from stepping outside what is familiar, and from reaching for opportunities that could change our lives. For some of us, a known misery feels easier to navigate than an unknown freedom.
And so we wonder: Why does it seem so easy for other people to do certain things, while I become overwhelmed so easily?
Because it is not just our intellect or logical mind that is at play.
Our unconscious mind may be influencing us in ways we don’t always recognize.
Our unconscious mind is a deep, uncharted territory.
When you practice Vipassana meditation, it never becomes boring. It is like unearthing pieces of a puzzle that you didn’t even know were missing.
And suddenly, everything starts to make sense.
You can think of every possible logical reason for certain actions. You can overthink all you want and exhaust every ounce of your mental energy.
But the real reason may only be found when you turn off that logical, rational mind and allow the silence to swallow your reality.
From that point, the real answer can emerge.
And sometimes, the answer is surprising.
That is why it is unconscious. It has not yet reached your conscious mind.
Anyway, I think I need to strengthen my relationship with uncertainty—to become more comfortable with not knowing.
Because perhaps maturity isn’t always about finding answers. Maybe it is about becoming capable of living without them.
I stopped astrology, but I’m not sure what else I need to let go of to make peace with the unknown.
Perhaps I also need to learn to say, “I don’t know,” without feeling the need to immediately search for an answer.
Because maybe “I don’t know” is not a weakness or an unfinished thought.
Maybe it is the most honest answer we can give.
I don’t know.
No one really knows.
–G.A.