Finally Out of the Friend Zone

The journey from wingman to partner

New on the dating scene, I needed an accomplice. My friend Ben would do.

“There’s a guy I like and his band is playing tonight. Do you want to come be my wing-man?” I texted him.

“Yeah! Sure. If you’ll be mine, too!”

Ben had been single for a long time and most of his recent dates had been awful. They made entertaining stories, but he was more than ready for something longer-term.

Ben and I had been friends for a few years. I knew he’d had a slight crush on me at one point, but it was nothing serious. I was married at the time and anyway, I’m 11 years older and he wasn’t my type. I thought of him like a brother.

After my divorce, I didn’t see Ben for six months, but when the concert came up, he was the first person to pop into my mind. He knew the band and it would be a fun opportunity to catch up again.

I’d been on a few unsuccessful dates and the guy in the band was cute. Perhaps he could have potential? I figured having Ben there might lead to an introduction.

When Ben arrived, I was surprised by how nervous I felt. We’d been texting about the evening and he’d been a little flirty. I brushed it off. It didn’t mean anything. Since becoming single, a bit of silly teasing and flirting wasn’t unusual for me with male friends.

Ben was a shearer and usually pretty scruffy, but he turned up at my door in a nice long-sleeved shirt and jacket. I was impressed.

“I’ve never seen you dressed up,” I said. He looked cool. Giving him a platonic hug, I noticed he smelt great too.

He shrugged. “You look lovely. Are you ready to go?”

Playing Wingman

The gig was at a pub. As a local in our small town, Ben knew most of the people there. We sat at a table and a stream of friends and acquaintances came up to greet us. Ben leaned in close and pointed to a pretty woman on the dance floor, her tiny shorts showing off her tanned, shapely legs.

“I had a bit of a crush on her a while ago,” he said.

He left me with a group of newly introduced friends, and went outside to chat with an old school mate. I kept an eye on the girl Ben had pointed out and eventually she came and joined the group. Maybe I could see if she was single, put in a good word for him, I thought.

We chatted and after a few minutes it was pretty clear her life was in a mess. She wasn’t in the head-space to be starting a relationship with anyone right then. I told Ben the bad news.

“That’s okay, it was an old crush,” he said, laughing.

The band paused for a break and bought drinks over to our table. I could feel heat rising in my face as the guy I liked chatted with Ben. Being the wing-man he’d promised to be, Ben introduced me and subtly left us alone.

Within three sentences I was looking for a way out of the conversation. The sexy musician was clearly a player, and a bore.

Like kissing my brother

“We’re terrible wingmen!” we joked after the gig had finished. We’d hung back at the bar after most of the crowd had left. Not a drinker, Ben waited while I finished off the last of my cider and then called me over to the corner of the room.

“Look what’s over here,” he said and sat down at an old piano.

He moved to the edge of the piano stool and patted for me to sit beside him. I knew he was a musician and had heard him perform with his guitar, but I didn’t even know he played other instruments.

Our arms touched as he played beautiful piece after piece, just for me. Easily switching from classical to jazz, to Bohemian Rhapsody, all from memory. He snuck little sideways smiles at me between songs.

“This is the kind of man I could fall in love with,” I thought. Surprised by it. “But it’d be like kissing my brother, wouldn’t it?”

He walked me home and it was obvious something had shifted between us. He seemed nervous. I shook it off and invited him in for hot chocolate. This was Ben, my friend! What did we have to feel awkward about? We sat in beanbags, cradling our drinks, picking music videos to play to each other on our phones.

I showed him a song with a ridiculous soppy story-line.

“But it’s so romantic!” I laughed.

His hand touched my arm and he let his fingers side down it. I didn’t move away. A rush of attraction pulsed through me. This is Ben. You’re not attracted to Ben! I told myself again. How was this happening?

I placed the phone on my knee, the song still playing, and looked up at him. With his eyes on me, I knew he saw more than a friend and I found myself wanting him to. The chemistry was like nothing I’d felt before and when he leaned in and kissed me, it wasn’t at all like kissing my brother.

Out of the zone

It was hard to get our heads around a relationship with each other — there was the age gap, as well as the friendship. After two months of dating we called it off. Ben had to go overseas on a work-trip for six weeks and it made sense to step back and think about what we both wanted.

We missed each other far more than we expected: texting every morning, lunch, and night. One night we messaged each other until the sun came up. We couldn’t stand the thought of losing our close friendship. We also couldn’t stand the thought of the other person dating someone else.

Still overseas, Ben texted me one day: “I don’t want to lose you, Kelly. I love you and want you to be my girlfriend.”

That was a year and a half ago. Those two friends in the bar, being each other’s wing-men, seem like different people.

In a few months, we’ll be getting married. Is it possible to get out of the friend zone? Definitely.

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