OK, so yesterday, not only did we do Western civilization’s first close-study of the phenomenon known as “The Boof”, but through our comments, we possibly helped a real-life Boof overcome her psychological obstacles and go on her merry ways towards anti-Boofdom. This warms my heart for two reasons. Firstly, I’ve always thought of this website as a vessel for peace, love, and understanding. Secondly, my parole officer has told me that if Lori gets laid, I can count it towards my community-service requirement.
This real-life case study, illuminated through a series of self-help comments that ultimately culminating with ruminations of a Taco Bell-brand bed and breakfast, serve to illustrate what is a commonly known fact: if you’re a Boof, you’re almost always a Boof. It’s incredibly difficult to remove yourself from that spot in the object of your affection’s heart. It’s like getting the crowd at the Apollo Theatre to applaud Ozzfest. Not gonna happen. The reasons are two-fold and semi-related. The object is inevitably going to not see you, The Boof, as anything but a cute but largely asexual being. You, for your part, do very little to dissuade their opinion of you, largely because you hardly ever express your true feelings for the person in a way that’s credible.
These two forces work together in a sinister social waltz to ensure that you two never engage in any physical contact except for high fives. Not cool. Today’s we’re gonna look at why the Boofs usually end up being the unrequited partner in this dance duo. And maybe, by the end, we can all work to figure a way to break some of these cycles. We’ll start by looking at some common rationales behind our friend Boof not telling their Object of their true feelings. I’m gonna credit Tim for fleshing these reasons out with me over instant messenger. Three hours of “I Love the 70s”, “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy”, and vodka had rendered me a bit hazy, but Tim slapped me upside the head, put a rubber duck on my desk and said, “Sally forth, Sally.” And then molested the blender. It was really weird. Anyway, on with the list.
“I just don’t think they like me that way.”
Ah, the Backstreet Boys excuse. Tell me why…we still use this? Ah, well, because it’s an easy copy out, mostly. But also because very often, without a straight, blunt, monosyllabic, direction question of the Object, we as Boofs really can’t know what people are thinking. For two months, through emails with Jenny, I thought I was in like sandals in the summer. Turns out, she thought I was gay. So go figure. We never know. Even when you think you know, you just don’t know. Even when you’re 99% sure you know, you don’t know. Why don’t we plain ol’ ask them how they feel? Glad you asked.
“If I ask them, then things will get weird between us.”
You’ve changed the rules, suddenly. There’s a serious potential for some tectonic shifting of boundaries here. We’re not talking continental drift; we’re talking Mt. Etna when it’s really pissed. The best way to think about it is to think about a nice lump of clay. See it, over on the table? That clay is the two of you, platonically. Chillin’. Not really causing harm. Doing your clay thing. And your announcement of romantic feelings is like an overweight third-grader that accidentally sits on the clay pile of your platonic relationship. That happens more times than “Al Pacino overacts in a post-‘Scent of a Woman’ movie”. Seriously. Just ugly. Like, 70’s porn star ugly. (Thank you, VH1.) Why can it get ugly? Again, thanks for asking. You’re making my job easy.
“They suddenly think your friendship is based on a bootylicious lie.”
For some people, the interruption of a until-then platonic relationship with a statement of physical interest negates the entire basis of the interactions up until that point. It’s all null and void to the Object. This especially is the case if the Object is a female, and they pull the, “Aw hell, I knew it, you just wanted some ass, didn’t you?” speech, to which there is no good reply. I’ve tried five different ones, and none of them have worked. If any of you have figured something out, let me know. For these Objects, it’s an all-or-nothing proposition: friends…or not friends. “Not friends” can be “lovers” or “don’t even think about calling me again”, but it ain’t friends. Sho’ ‘nuff. Of course, things may also go from platonic to tectonic because…
“They can’t return the sentiment, but don’t wanna hurt my feelings, and as such start blabbing like Elmer Fudd without his meds…”
This is a Lose/Lose situation, right up there with the Yankees/Mets World Series. No good can come of this. You as the Object have to find some way to let your friend down without lowering them below an emotional bus, and you as the Boof know the SECOND you are going down this road. It’s innate. Amazing how, until that moment, you don’t know how they’ll react, but the millisecond it goes down this path, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world. So you as the Boof start making apologies, and insisting they don’t have to explain, but the Objects feel the need to explain, and soon the two of you are talking over each other and it sounds like a really bad rendition of the end of Act One of "Les Miserables". Lots of overlapping, misheard words, unheard words, someone declares themself to be Prisoner #64301…just ugly. Like, Latoya ugly. The Object might also get uncomfortable because…
“They had no idea how I would react to rejection.”
Lost in all the agony over “Does my Object like me?” is the Object’s instant thought of “How can I break this to them and yet still be able to see them again in a non-awkward way?” Doesn’t happen all the time, but then again, none of these scenarios are absolutes. We’re covering Worst-Case Scenarios, because remember, if I’ve taught you anything on this website, it’s that fatalism is fun! What happens in this case is that the Object tries to let the person down easy, can’t do it because they feel bad, end up going on a pity date, confusion ensues, and pretty soon, third parties are being called in to reclaim random things left accidentally at the other person’s place. More than Latoya ugly. We’re now officially in Vegas Celine ugly now.
OK, there are undoubtedly more, but it’s my website, and I’m lazy, and 5 is a magic number. The number 3 has a great PR firm, but really, 5 is the REAL magic number, baby.
Now, to the ultimate question: what can be done to alleviate any of these scenarios? The sad answer: not too much. Too many variables associated with each individual case. They’re like snowflakes, that way. One man’s meat is another man’s bootylicious lie, as Decartes once said. Or maybe it was Kid Rock.
Point being, I’m not here to offer lame advice, unlike most days. I’m a big fan of the notion that asking someone on a date need not be the be all and end all of everything between those two people, but I’m clear-eyed enough to know that this sentiment is rarely shared in the small circle I’ve traveled in post-Jenny. Only had one situation where I asked a friend out, she gave me a straightforward, “I’m flattered, but I think we work as friends,” and moved on. Not as if nothing had happened, but as if nothing earth-shattering had happened. She was, I think, flattered, and I never brought it up again. We’re hanging out tomorrow night for drinks. The way it should be.
That’s been the exception to the rule, of course, as it might be for many of you. Wish it weren’t, but that’s the reality many of us face. We try to change it, bit by bit, but keeping back to scenarios like those listed above. Makes it hard to venture out on one’s moral high ground when everyone else is in some serious social canyons. We cave down to the lowest common denominator, because compromise is often the name of the game. We wish we didn’t have to, though. Not because everyone we ask out is a potential life-partner; but because we’d like to ask someone for a drink without putting the amount of preparation into it that the government puts into certain military operations. Not to say we should take asking someone out lightly; just here to advocate a more chill approach to the whole thing.
The risk are high, to be certain. Even a few days awkwardness is more than most people can bear. To not act, though, has often caused me much more anguish. As such, I’m all about a call to arms to Boofs near and far to get up the gumption to declare their interests. Let us no longer live in the Latoya Social Shadow. Break on through the other side. Right now we’re just letting the days go by, water flowing underground. Stand in the place where you live. Now face west. You gotta fight...for you right...to BooooooooooFAY!
Who’s with me?