I’ve had sex with people who’ve started as friends. The only two girlfriends I’d say I ever really loved, they started as friends. In both of those scenarios I probably maintained what you could call somewhat of a flirtatious relationship with them while I was in relationships with other people (don’t @ me), and then sought them out once I was single. And bingo bango bongo the fact that we’d been friends for a while, and then just added sex? It actually made for a pretty damn good relationship.
I don’t see why my situation with Mia is any different, even though she was the one in the relationship when we met. Are guys the only ones allowed to break The Friend Zone barrier? There’s this idea of The Friend Zone that has me so flustered. Like, just because we started as friends, sex and a subsequent relationship is and always will be completely off the table. Why? If I had not met Mia five months ago, and instead met her this week, or next week, or next month, what would make that so different that all of a sudden sex and a relationship becomes an option. If we hit it off as friends when she had a boyfriend, who says that that wouldn’t have translated to romance had we met when we were single?
I understand this is not really how women think. Yes, it takes a delicate hand to switch the mindset from friend to lover, and most of you would probably calls this a fool’s errand. But for some ineffable reason, your boy was hell bent on trying. I needed Mia to see me as a potential mate. I had to take a shot. But how? The timeless art of seduction.
So I’m up at Moxon’s farm, and at that point I’m in the mindset that yes, Mia is just looking for a friend. Maybe there were some signs that I had some kind of shot, but I was in agreement with all of you that this was a BFF scenario. I believe the phrase I enjoyed the most was “emotional tampon.” That’s why, at the time, I was skirting around being definitive for a date. I wanted to just kind of try and pick up on her clues to see if she was interested. And again, at this point up on the farm, I didn’t think she was.
But here’s the thing about getting a group of boys out in nature, blasting golf balls into the woods, grilling steaks from freshly slaughtered cattle, binging on nearly frozen lagers, and smoking enough weed to get an entire Mauritanian village blazed for a decade: you do dumb stuff. So there we all were, stoney bologna, drunk as punks, and we get to talking about girls. What else were we gonna talk about.
Welp, the boys think it’s a good idea at this point to throw a little bit of flirt game Mia’s way and see how she responds. They thought I was one of several guys she was texting, but they also thought one of these guys she was texting was going to end up having sex with her. Why not Boston’s Boy, right?
“Send her a selfie, outta the blue,” was the sage advice thrown my way by one of our resident Casanovas.
“I’m not good looking enough for the selfie opener,” I joked. I decided to just put out a little feeler. You know, just the tip just for a second.
Boston Max – Saturday May 27, 6:33 p.m.: Hey! How’s the MDW weekend going?
Mia – 6:34 p.m.: Amaazzzz
Mia – 6:34 p.m.: W Lyla now!!
Mia – 6:34 p.m.: How’s update
And then I decided now would be the appropriate time for a selfie. So, I snapped a photo standing in front of a tractor with my buddy Moxon up on the seat looking like a goofball. The photo was Great London Fire of 1666 fire flames level inferno.
Boston Max – 6:44 p.m.: *selfie*
Mia – 7:21 p.m.: Amazing
And then it happened. BOOOOOM. Out of motherfucking left field. A picture of Mia’s ass in a thong. And Lyla’s. They were in a tattoo parlor. They had just got matching ass tats that said “GRL PWR”, and I could tell that somewhere along the way Mia’s Saturday maybeeeee derailed a little bit from where she planned on it going.
I was shocked. But I needed an epic comeback. Somehow, I knew words wouldn’t cut it. Not even Billy Shakespeare himself could come up with iambic pentameter worthy of a response to the two awesome butts staring at me from my phone screen. And then it hit me. I knew exactly how I’d respond. Of course I did. I’d seen this play out on, what else, Seinfeld. George gets a seductive photo? Have Kramer help you hit her with one back. The timeless art of seduction.
I grabbed a sharpie, three of my best friends, and the four of us sharpied “GRL PWR” right on our perfectly toned glutes (real men don’t skip glute day). You want to get nuts? Let’s get nuts.
Boston Max – 7:45 p.m.: *Pic of me and three buddies with “GRL PWR” sharpied on our butts*
I thought it was an on-point response, and Mia agreed.
Mia – 7:46 p.m.: Omg. I love you so much
Mia – 7:47 p.m: Like SO MUCH
Mia – 7:47 p.m: WE LOVE YOU ALL
Boston Max – 8:16 p.m.: Crazy, I didn’t realize you knew my tattoo guy
Mia – 8:17 p.m.: Awwwww
I took this as a pretty good sign. Should I not have? All my buddies thought this was a great sign. Maybe I need new friends.
The next day was Sunday of MDW, and we were on our way back to the city. I thought the picture exchange from the night before was a home run, so decided I’d try and meet up with Mia and see what happened.
Boston Max – Sunday May 28, 1:29 p.m.: All my boys fell asleep on the bus back to NYC
Boston Max – 1:30 p.m.: I need to hear the tattoo story
Mia – 1:53 p.m.: Are you coming back tonight!!??
I’ll spare you the next FOURTEEN text messages telling me a wild story of how Mia and her friends got lit at brunch, saw someone with a “GRL PWR” tattoo, went to accompany a friend to get a dove tat, and then saw someone else come in asking for a “GRL PWR” tat, and so they thought it was “kismet” (her words, not mine) and that they should all get the “GRL PWR” tats. I made sure to let Mia know that brunch is a gateway drug, and one minute you’re crushing mimos, and the next you’re getting a tattoo on your butt.
After a few back and forths…
Boston Max – 2:01 p.m. : I better avoid St Marks street tonight because I saw a tat that said “no ragrets” up here in the sticks and I can’t risk running into the same one down in the city tonight. Because then I’d have to get the tat. Kismet.
Mia – 2:09 p.m.: Hahahhahahahhahaha
Mia – 2:09 p.m.: Yep
Mia – 2:09 p.m.: Avoid st marks! But tell me what you’re doing..
In the words of Tom Brady, Let’s Goooooooo..
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