the boys

Currently listening to: On My Way – Alan Walker, Sabrina Carpenter, & Farruko

So then, when I’m finished
I’m all ’bout my business and ready to save the world
I’m taking my misery, make it my bitch
Can’t be everyone’s favorite girl

I have a lot of male friends.  A lot.  More than any one should have.  A majority of them are Korean and a handful are Hispanic.

I don’t have any romantic feelings towards any of them.  It’s strictly platonic to me.  I know a couple of them are strongly attracted to me but I’ve already placed them in the friend zone and that’s where they’ll stay.   There’s no spark, thrilling sense of excitement, or feelings of jealousy at all.

I’m actually happy whenever they date or get married because I want them to have and live their best lives.  They deserve it.  As much as I wish them well in their relationships, there have been times when their significant others have met me and felt apprehensive towards me despite telling them that I think of their men as “my brother”.  We’ve literally been friends for over a decade.  There have been instances when my guy friends were given ultimatums by their partners…they could continue dating, if they dropped me as a friend.  Le sigh.  I tell them, “Do what you need to do.  You know where I’ll be at if you ever need me.”

I have more male friends because females can get petty, full of drama, and the competition is fierce.  I don’t like comparing myself with others and vice versa.  I just want to do what I want to do without feeling a certain way or feeling stressed out.

My male friends are married, single, or divorced…but throughout the years, we’ve all stayed together.  They’re very protective of me, willing to fuck up any guy who hurts me (I wrote about Buddy H in a previous blog entry).  I don’t tell them much about my love life because they don’t want to see me in that sort of way.  Plus, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.  If I make stupid decisions, I have to pay the consequences for them, not anyone else.

Whenever we’d go to weddings or funerals, it almost looks like it’s a scene from “My Wife is a Gangster”.  Me, wearing a black dress or suit and rolling at least ten deep with men who hover over me wearing suits, looking rather mafioso.

Why do I need so many? I don’t know…we’ve all gone through so much bullshit in our lives, in a way it’s bonded us all.  They also make me feel safe. Even if things go badly, I know at the end…I’ll be okay because they are there…to pick up the pieces if needed and put me back together.  They’re my safety net…and I love them for that.