This is an excerpt from my latest masterpiece: “Friend Zone No More!!” It’s a story about unrequited love and unexpected connections. Also sodomy. It cuts off before it gets steamy. I haven’t released it just yet, but keep tuned if you think it might be something you’re interested in!
No More Friend Zone!
Copyright 2012. Yoli Kim.
I love a girl. She has thick black hair, green eyes, and her name is Charlotte. Her skin is white and moist. She smells like daffodils and rainwater. I’ve always loved her, but she doesn’t love me. We’re just friends.
It’s completely one-sided. I can’t decide to either piss or to get off the pot. I’m too much of a wuss to choose between declaring my love and getting rejected or ending our friendship. I can’t choose. I’m stuck.
This wasn’t a recent development. It’s been like this since we were kids. She and her twin brother, Matt, were my earliest neighbors. I’d been in love with her since my mom made us playmates. That’s how far we went back. She was the original girl next door.
I was friends with her whole family too. I was really good friends with Matt: her twin brother. We’d spent a lot of time together doing homework and playing when we were younger. Whenever we spent time together I’d always hope to get a glimpse of his sister. It anchored me to her.
We were so close that all of us even went to the same college. I even moved in with Matt since we were such good friends. You can probably imagine that this made things a whole lot worse for me. Matt was a constant reminder of his sister. They looked similar. They had the same eyes. They even sort of smelled the same.
I didn’t have control over these feelings. They were always a feature of my life. I couldn’t get rid of them. Trying to get rid of my feelings would have been like cutting off one of my fingers or gouging out an eyeball. Sometimes I felt like visiting a therapist, but I knew they’d probably recommend something healthy like severing all contact with her. I liked being unhealthy though, so I never went.
Sometimes I’d dream about her and I’d wake up in the middle of the night. The feelings of rejection and failure made my stomach upset. I couldn’t let anyone know about it. Especially not my best friend. He was her brother after all.
As strange as it sounds I sort of visualized our relationship as a meter. On one side of the meter was hate and on the other was love. I imagined that every time I did her a favor the meter would edge closer to love.
I had had this weird fantasy that one day she’d need a kidney and I would gallantly offer her my organ. The surgeons would cut it out of me, and the transplant would make her a brand new person. In this particular fantasy we’d spend the next couple of weeks lying side by side in the hospital as we recovered. The needle would jerk over to the right and she’d drop the pretense of friendship and then she’d marry me. We’d be a pair at last!
She didn’t actually have a meter though, and if she needed kidneys she’d probably just get them from Matt. They were pretty genetically similar. I think she read my mind somehow and figured out that I’d do anything to make her happy. That’s how I accidentally became her servant. If she wanted something I’d do whatever she wanted. I was her endlessly frustrated platonic slave. The relationship was toxic, but I couldn’t quit. I was hopelessly addicted to trying to push that imaginary needle farther to the right.
I think I compensated for this broken, loveless, life by making myself stiff and sexless. I’d adopted this stoic facade. I acted like a robot. I behaved seriously. I almost believed that it made me feel less frustrated with the way things turned out, but I’d be lying if I said that it did. It was just a cover.
I think that’s also why I’ve never had a girlfriend. I never went on dates. I didn’t feel like trying either. It just felt a little bit pointless. More often than not I’d spend long hours moping around the University library working on school projects. Academia was a welcome distraction.
I’d usually work really hard on some project; blissfully forgetting her. Sometimes she would send me a text to ask me to run some little errand. I’d get a hopeful feeling about pushing that meter farther to the right, and I’d hop to it like some kind of robot. It was sad.
I was reminded of how pathetic a few days ago. I was just walking down the steps of the University library when Charlotte had crept up behind and had given me a hug. I was shocked that she would even touch me.
“Hey you!” She said.
Her touch was like a ray of light. Her voice was like water to my soul. Usually she’d just send me texts, but now she was actually talking to me and even making physical contact. The rising tone of her voice made it seem like she was happy to see me. I couldn’t believe my good luck, and my spirits rose slightly before I realized that this was the reason why I kept letting her walk all over me – every so often I’d get a hug as a reward to keep me interested. She smelt like daffodils.
“Hey,” I said as I brushed a bit of hair out of my face while I tried to swallow the bitter taste of self-loathing. “What are you doing in the library?”
“I’m just returning a book for my boyfriend.”
I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I tried not to act disappointed or frustrated. I’d never asked if she had a boyfriend. I didn’t want to pry into her life. I tried not to let the realization register on my face.
“I’m bringing my brother this book,” Charlotte said. “Would it be okay if you took it to him for me? I want to go visit my boyfriend and if I have to go back to my brother’s apartment then it might make me late. I know you’re going that way so it won’t be that much trouble right? I’d like to surprise my boyfriend. I’ve got something planned tonight.”
“Yeah,” I said. I looked at the end of my right foot while I talked. “I was just about to go see him. Your brother.”
“Oh good. That’s awesome. Here. Take these.”
She handed me a pile of books before she fished her cellphone out of her jacket pocket and started rapidly typing out a text.
“No problem,” I said, but she ignored me. She barely raised her head at all. She just nodded and continued to jab out letters on her fancy phone. I thought about muttering something to her, but I didn’t. I just turned and walked down the fancy marble steps of the library. She always ignored me after getting me to agree to run an errand.
I know it probably wasn’t the healthiest thing, but I couldn’t help it. I think I even liked it a little bit. There’s something comfortable and idealistic about loving someone you doesn’t appreciate you.
Besides, I had invested so much emotional energy into her that it was difficult for me to abandon ship. I had so much riding on her. Giving up would mean that I had failed and that all my emotional effort had been a waste.
It really didn’t help that I lived with her brother. I mentioned earlier that they were twins, and she’d often come to our apartment in order to check up on him. He always kind of reminded me of her. They weren’t identical, but they were very similar in a lot of ways.
I think that she knew about the way I felt, but she had never told me to stop. I suspect that she just enjoyed the attention. This made things worse. It made me feel rotten. I didn’t understand what she wanted. I had this weird idea that, maybe, if I improved myself then I’d be able to tip that meter over into the love zone.
That’s why me and her brother worked out after I delivered his books. We went to the gym and began pumping iron.
His presence helped keep me focused on what I was trying to accomplish while I exercised. I wanted to develop my muscles. That way I’d stand a better chance at getting his sister to like me. I wanted to lay on top of her while I drove my hot, engorged, cock deep inside her until she screamed. I wanted to nail her from behind and I wanted to pull out and fire hot, burning, streams of cum all across her lower back while pulling on her hair.
I wanted to get married too so that we could snuggle, but that would just be a nice bonus to plowing her until she screamed while I sucked on her nipples. They were two sides of the same, wonderful, coin.
I guess fantasizing about her made me look distracted because I accidentally dropped a barbell which made Matt jump into the air.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked. “You almost broke your foot. Is something on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I said. “There isn’t any problem. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your business.”
“I know you. Something is wrong. I’ll get it out of you.”
I grunted as I picked up the barbell again and curled it upward.
Matt began to guess about what might be bothering me. He snapped his fingers.
He kept asking as we worked out. Eventually we finished, showered, and headed back to our shared apartment. He kept guessing on the way home. He didn’t even stop when we sat down on the couch and began playing video games.
“Cars,” he guessed.
“Goddamn you’re annoying sometimes,” I said.
Matt wasn’t annoying. He just really seemed to care about me. He’d always been my best friend. Whenever I had a problem he’d rush to my aid. Once I broke my leg in his yard when I fell off the swing and he carried me back indoors while we waited for the ambulance. He was just cool like that.
“Well,” he said. “Just let me know what’s bothering you.”
“Will you shut the fuck up if I tell you?”
“It’s a girl,” I tried to keep it vague. I didn’t want him to figure out that I wanted to nail his sister. “I’m having a lot of trouble getting over this girl that I like. She’s hot, and smart, and cool, but she just doesn’t like me. I keep trying to move past her, but I keep coming back. What makes it worse is that she isn’t rejecting me. We’re friendly, we’ve been friends for a long time, but she isn’t interested. It’s just making me confused. It’s gone on for a long time.”
Matt looked at me with those eyes. They were the same eyes that she had. Once, when we were younger, me and my friends asked them to stand side by side. Their deep, green, eyes had the same speckles in the same spots. It was uncanny.
“It’s the friend zone,” he said. “Once you’re in the friend zone you can’t ever get out of the friend zone. It’s like the Bermuda Triangle. It’s like this trap that you stumble into and can’t ever crawl out of because the walls are too high.”
“It just feels awful,” I said. “This is going to sound terrible, but I wish I could just choose who I liked. Then I’d just choose someone who liked me. Then I’d like them back. It would be perfect. That kind of situation would be so logical and convenient.”
“You can’t control that.”
When I just met Charlotte I was filled with excitement and the world seemed like it was full of unrealized possibility. Now everything seemed set in stone.
“I guess I’m stuck.”
“I think I understand your situation better than you think. I’m stuck too. There’s also someone who I like, who I’ve liked for a long time, who doesn’t really know that I’ve always liked them. It’s really frustrating. We’re really good friends, but it just never occurs to them that maybe I admire them so much that I want them to like me back.”
“Who are you stuck on?” I asked.
“I’m not saying,” he said. “It’s someone we both know very well and I don’t feel like making our lives any more complicated than they have to be.”
I laughed because that was the exact same thing that I had been trying to tell him. That he was in the same situation made me feel a little bit better. It made me feel less alone. I felt a tug of curiosity though. I wanted to know who he was talking about. I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
“Come on, man,” I said. “Don’t hold out on me here.”
He pressed his toe into my kneecap and then he gave me a look. Something rose inside me for a moment. I felt like maybe he understood my situation. That maybe he knew how I was hopelessly fixated on his sister.
“Who is it?” I asked again. “Dude. Come on. You need to tell me. I have to know now. We’re best friends.”
“Friends,” he said again. “You’re right. We are friends.”
He looked at me.
There was something about that look. It was the same look that I gave the mirror each morning when I thought of his sister. He raised both his eyebrows and bit his lip. It looked like he was on the verge of telling me something. Something clicked in my brain.
“You mean me?!”