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August 20, 2003
Boof-y the Platonic Slayer
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 themselves 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?
Posted by Ryan McGee at August 20, 2003 12:09 AM
Comments
Put your hand on the blog- do you feel the power?! I'm healed brutha. I support this movement, I shall encourage the Boofs around me to say, "Straight up now tell me..."
Posted by: Heather at August 20, 2003 08:12 AM
I'm all for it. But a word to the Boofs - decide what outcome you can live with. A story to illustrate: in high school, I had this great guy friend. He was fun, sweet, smart, but he was my Boof. He decided to tell me that he was interested. I just wanted friendship. It got nice and awkward after that, and then he finally said to me that if he couldn't date me, then he didn't even want to be friends because it was too hard. So I ended up losing a great friend because a relationship wasn't in the cards. Point is - if you tell your Wolfman that you want a relationship and Wolfman denies you, decide if you can live with that. If not, then decide how much the friendship means to you...
ARGH! I'm not making any sense. Hopefully you were able to gleen something out of that...maybe I just needed to vent? Who knows. Pass the vodka, McGee.
Posted by: Megan at August 20, 2003 09:12 AM
(taking a drink from the bottle) I totally hear you Megan, and that's something that has been at the forefront of the ongoing debate in my head of whether to say anything to my Object of Affection or not. The whole situation has become a joke between my roommate and I, with her asking "Get any action?" and my reply, "What do you think?" after each time we see each other. Oh, and Ryan, with regard to your Mt. Etna allegory, my Object's name is Clay.
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 09:32 AM
What's the point in being friends with someone if all you're going to be is their Boof and both of you know it? The main basis for friendship is that you enjoy the other person's company. If there's a situation of unrequited passion, as hard as it is, one may have to get the hell out of the friendship simply to save their sanity. It sucks, but it gets better.
So is there any vodka left?
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 11:22 AM
It's a good day for any writer when they can drive their readership to alchoholism.
Posted by: ryan at August 20, 2003 11:24 AM
Part of my attraction to Clay is the fact that I genuinely enjoy his company. That's why we have become friends. And in my evaluation of the situation, I value his friendship too much to want to lose it because of unrequited romantic feelings. I could get over it if he didn't feel the same, but it would be great if it were returned.
There's plenty of vodka left! We saved some for you. You need to go on a beer run though.
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 11:40 AM
Here's my vote for declaring your Boof-dom...In high school I was a Boof to my best friend while she dated someone else, then while she was still with him, I gave up and started dating someone else also. Soon, she broke up with her guy and became my Boof! In both situations, the Object was unaware of the Boof's feelings...A while later, I broke up with the girl I was dating, and a short time later, the best friend confessed her Boof-ness, which she had been holding back doing in polite deference to the girlfriend (a mutual friend, to make things that much harder).
Long story short (er, shorter): I happily confessed my earlier state of Boof-osity, and we got together...After a couple of weeks, I decided that we were better as best friends and suggested (in a less-than-ideal fashion, I admit...Hey, I was only in high school!) that we go back to the way things were before...
Happy ending time: That was 6 years ago, we are still best friends, she is very happily married (admittedly, to a guy that is strikingly similar to myself), and I am on my way in the same direction...
Don't know if this will actually help anyone, but I guess the moral of the story is that out-ing your inner Boof doesn't necessarily have to kill a good friendship.
Posted by: Rob at August 20, 2003 11:47 AM
Did somebody order a keg?
Posted by: Heather at August 20, 2003 12:25 PM
And now a word from the temperance movement.
I do not really have a lot of Boof moments in my past... generally because when I started to realize I was attracted to someone, I usually dove right in and asked them out. In many cases, this wasn't so hard because our friendship hadn't been around for a long time. Sure, I was worried about losing the friendship, which I enjoyed, over a potential relationship. But I sort of have problems keeping my feelings under wraps just in general, so I dove right in even if it wasn't the best timing. Some have worked out, some haven't. The ones that haven't, well, I have yet to lose a valued friendship over because either she reacted like a normal person and things were cool thereafter with the friendship (as far as I knew), or she said no in such a preposterously crazy go nuts kind of way that I thought, "You know, maybe I don't actually know this person that well... and mayhap I don't want to know her much better than this."
I suppose my big Boof moment was in high school. Had the world's biggest crush on a girl, asked her out, there was some confusion that was ultimately tantamount to a rejection, but we stuck with the friendship and wound up becoming better friends than before over the next couple of years. Sure, I had the Clark-mooning-over-Lana thing going on, and she probably knew I still did as well, but it sort of didn't matter. I knew she didn't feel the same way and just didn't bring it up.
(Because I have this speech on the brain) the future is an undiscovered country, and it puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others we know not of. And I can't guarantee there won't be mess or hardship. But I tend to live my life by diving in... and I find that infinitely less painful than torturing myself.
Posted by: Commander Foley at August 20, 2003 12:39 PM
So Lori, if you could get over it if Clay didn't return your affections, the risk is somewhat minimal. If he freaks, then as Foley said maybe you didn't know him that well.
I don't drink beer so I don't know how to tap a keg, so somebody else is going to have to do it. Not McGee though. He breaks corkscrews.
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 12:54 PM
I admire you for sticking with Clay, even if Reuben ultimately won, btw.
And damnit, that corkscrew was already a disaster waiting to happen. Not. My. Fault.
Posted by: ryan at August 20, 2003 01:05 PM
Says you.
:)
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 01:11 PM
Fine. I'm not coming to your birthday party.
*sticks tongue out, makes silly sound, and runs home to tell Mom on you*
Posted by: ryan at August 20, 2003 01:13 PM
I'm not a fairweather Boof, Ryan. He may not have won Idol, but dammit, he won my heart!
Can someone order a pizza? All this booze is going to my head.
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 01:22 PM
I was just whipping together a tasty little Tandoori stir fry dish (mmm... curry...) ... will that do? The only thing is I was making it for Reuben for his Second Lunch, and he's a little pissed at Clay these days for outselling his record, so you can't pass it on, OK?
(In the real world, obviously, tasy Tandoori stir fry = the normal healthy mixture of fruits and sanwhiches that I eat for lunch every day.)
Posted by: Commander Foley at August 20, 2003 01:41 PM
Well, Clay won't be too pissed about the Tandoori. We finally got him to taste some booze, and he comandeered the bottle of Jack Daniel's and is passed out in the corner. Someone may want to head to KFC, for him, though. Extra mashed potatoes, please. And get Ryan away from the keg, he keeps spraying people and wasting beer.
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 01:46 PM
So Foley, ca you driveusall home later? Because I think everybody is soo great and Iloveyou all and I wanna make sure everyone gets home safe. And I have so much trust in you, Foley, and uh......
........
I don't know. I'm gonna go sit down I think.
*zzzzzzzzzz*
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 01:53 PM
I'd try and stop McGee from spraying beer, but now he's dancing with some chick and they've unintentionally got me pinned against a wall... oh wait, that's just a flashback.
Posted by: Commander Foley at August 20, 2003 01:59 PM
Yes, could you tell him to get off me? This is really embarrassing...
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 02:02 PM
Somewhere along the line, what I actually blog about became irrelevant here...
Posted by: ryan at August 20, 2003 02:33 PM
It's all the booze, man. Don't sweat it.
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 02:34 PM
Hey- who's Chihuahua is this? And what happened to the entire cooler of PJ? Reuben....
Posted by: Heather at August 20, 2003 02:37 PM
Hey, my man Reuben had nothing to do with the cooler of PJ. The giant vat of PB (peanut butter)... yeah, that was him...
Posted by: Commander Foley at August 20, 2003 02:43 PM
I think my Boofness has been solved. Reuben has just eaten Clay. Someone pass the chicken. Has anyone seen my drink?
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 02:49 PM
I'm up! I'm up! I'm up! (ooh. head spins. cool.)
This couch is nice. When do the games start?
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 03:12 PM
That's MY chihuahua!!!
Eeeeeeeep!!! What are you doing to him??!!
Foley?? Can you extricate him from this?
p/s Foley, I never heard of a Tandoori Stir-Fry: Tandoori stuff are baked in a clay tandoor oven...
Posted by: glovefox at August 20, 2003 03:19 PM
It's all fun and games until someone cooks a chihuahua.
Posted by: ryan at August 20, 2003 03:26 PM
So who's up for streaking through the quad?
Posted by: Heather at August 20, 2003 03:29 PM
Great, you has to say the "S" word in front of Foley. Someone stop him....oops, too late, he's off to the races.
Posted by: ryan at August 20, 2003 03:31 PM
And the games begin! Wait a second....
NO! REUBEN! NO STREAKING! EWWWWWW!
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 03:41 PM
I just found a kiddy pool and some jello. Wait, what's going on with that water hose?
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 03:42 PM
What's this about jello shots in the pool?
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 03:50 PM
Ah geez, Ryan's doing the Tom Cruise Risky Business thing... Lori, are you thinkin what I'm thinkin?
Posted by: Heather at August 20, 2003 03:51 PM
SPRAY HIM!!! Hey, somebody put Push It on the stereo! Everybody dance! (get Ryan away from the columns on the porch)
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 03:54 PM
I should have known better than to not proofread my mention of a dish in a comments section read by Ms. Glovefox. Tandoori was not at all the word I was thinking of. I should have stuck with Mango Curry Stir Fry, which is what I probably meant, and which I have made before. *sigh*
We also regret to inform you all that there is a chihuahua down, repeat, there is a chihuahua down. Someone bring over the power cord from that busted speaker... I'm gonna see what I can do...
Posted by: Commander Foley at August 20, 2003 04:24 PM
Also, it goes without saying that you are all officially never invited to my house. :)
Posted by: Commander Foley at August 20, 2003 04:27 PM
Maybe Reuben can bring the chihuahua back to life with mouth-to-mouth.
Posted by: Diana at August 20, 2003 04:35 PM
Holy hell...you leave the blog for the afternoon and it becomes Sodom and Gomorrah.
Posted by: Megan at August 20, 2003 04:56 PM
Um, Reuben has the chihuahua's head in his mouth. Someone might want to explain the resuscitation part to him.
Tim, after all we have been through, I can't believe you would let a little thing like a keg falling on your car get between us like this.
Posted by: Lori at August 20, 2003 05:00 PM
I don't think I've been a Boof since highschool. Then again, with all those years in art school, I've had surprisingly few friendships with straight men, so perhaps I just haven't had the chance to be someone's Boof since adolescence... I have crushes a-plenty though, but that's different than being a Boof.
I think I missed this whole chihuahua and chicken part, but whatever, you can all come to my house anytime.
Posted by: laura at August 20, 2003 06:00 PM