Should Men and Women Be Friends?
Maybe this is less complicated than we think…
When I was a little girl, most of my best friends were boys. I loved hanging with the guys and was so proud when they praised me for being fast, brave, or strong. I loved to flirt, even at a young age, and loved feeling like something between a beloved little sister and the admired princess from the next kingdom over.
In childhood, none of it was complicated. Yes, we had our petty jealousies, but mostly, me and my guys just enjoyed our affection for one another.
Of course, social rules changed as we grew up. In high school, I still found myself in deeply intense friendships with males, but there was something inherently risky about that. Most of my male friends eventually confessed that they had romantic feelings for me — and when I lovingly thanked them for such a compliment but was honest enough to let them know I didn’t feel the same way, I lost every single one of them when their friendship suddenly transformed to aggression, cruelty, and bullying.
As I got older, I discovered that sometimes I did have romantic feelings for my male friends — even when those feelings could not be reciprocated.
In my mid-twenties, I developed a deep, intense friendship with a man who happened to be my best friend Shoshana’s boyfriend. I was strongly attracted to Landon — he was extremely handsome, creative, a good boyfriend, and he had the biggest heart of almost anyone I knew. I also felt he had a little (just a little) spark for me, too, though we never spoke of it.
Shoshana, a deeply secure, sexually liberated woman, seemed aware of the attraction. Again, we never talked about it openly, but she gave me every indication that she had no problem with the little spark between me and Landon and often seemed to encourage it by seating me next to him at parties or nudging him on days when I felt down, as if giving him an unspoken cue to tell me I looked beautiful.
One Valentine’s Day, when I met them for breakfast, he handed me a bouquet of flowers and said, “For my beautiful friend,” and Shoshana smiled at me from behind him. I knew she had asked him to do that for me as encouragement after watching me go through a difficult time with a man I was dating, and I loved them both for the gesture.
Friendships, it turned out, could be a romantic space, too, without anyone having to make it something more.
In my thirties, I didn’t engage in friendships with men. My partner at the time had very strict rules about appropriate behavior between men and women (for me, that is — he always maintained it was perfectly okay for him to have friendships with women). It was also a time when it seemed as though everyone my age was in a committed, monogamous partnership and honestly, it seemed easier to just remain in socially approved “lanes.”
After my relationship ended and I started working at a new job in a male-dominated industry, I found myself suddenly surrounded by men. There was no way to avoid building relationships with them — sometimes very intense relationships.
I immediately forged a strong connection with two agency partners — Nathan and Peter. I admit, I developed a huge, though ultimately fleeting crush on Nathan right away. He was my age, extremely handsome, cocky, and oh-so-cool. Very Han Solo, just without the impish sense of humor.
Oh…and he was married.
I could tell over time that he felt an attraction to me, as well, and as our working relationship developed into a friendship, we became accustomed to the occasional awkward moments we experienced when I would smile at him a little too long or when he’d charge to my defense in a conflict with coworkers a little too vehemently.
But it remained innocent and fun. Neither of us would ever have tried to make it something more, and over time, the spark between us petered out, leaving us with a genuine friendship.
Then there was Peter, a slow burn that turned into an enduring flame. He’s nearly 20 years older than me and also married. I didn’t have any expectations of what our working relationship might be when we first met, and indeed, I never could have imagined the gifts it would bring.
Within a few weeks, we discovered that were in sync in ways that are extremely uncommon. I would pick up my phone to call him, only to find him calling me. We’d finish each other’s sentences. I’d bring him supplies I knew he would need before he realized he needed them.
One day, after a conflict with my boss that left me shaken, I drove to his office for a meeting, a fake but convincing smile on my face. As soon as he saw me, he opened his arms, squeezed me hard and said, “What’s wrong, kiddo? Tell me.”
Something happened in that moment that felt a little bit like falling in love. Though it wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t romantic in the traditional sense. It was simply as if our friendship had grown into a sweet, soft space that felt safer than most any I have ever known.
I soon after became good friends with his wife. Just as had happened with Shoshana, I believe she noticed the connection between me and Peter — in fact, everyone saw it. (My other coworkers referred to Peter as my “work husband.”) She seemed fine with it, knowing, I suspect, that I would never have threatened their relationship in any way.
Somehow, we all became close, a kind of emotional threesome, and I will always regard that as one of the most beautiful relationships of my life.
Then there is sweet Frank, almost 30 years older than I, who became another dear, close friend over the course of the past four years. I knew Frank had an attraction to me. But I did not feel the same. Could we remain friends with this complication?
At some point, I told him, “I need to keep this relationship rated G.” It was hard to say. I was very fond of him as a friend, but I wasn’t attracted to him in that way and wasn’t comfortable with dating someone that much older.
He accepted my boundary without an argument. And I’m glad because we have become extremely close in the past few years. I can’t imagine my life without him and his steadfast support, love, and compassion.
Last night, on the one-year anniversary of leaving my job to pursue my dream career, Frank and I went out for dinner and when we hugged goodbye, he called me “sweetheart,” then immediately apologized. When I asked why he was apologizing, he said it wasn’t appropriate.
So we talked it through: He and his wife have been separated for years. He and I are not in love, though as friends, we say “I love you” to one another on a regular basis. And “sweetheart” is just an affectionate, non-sexy pet name that I find adorable.
We came to the conclusion that yes, “sweetheart” is an appropriate expression of his affection for me.
But the conversation seemed to echo all the blurry lines between me and men that have been so complicated to navigate throughout my life.
I like to flirt and I love to build people up — but it often surprises me that innocent flirting with men is often interpreted by them as a promise of sex. Over the years, I’ve found myself much less flirtatious because of this.
I also find that many people have very strict rules about friendships between men and women, just as my ex had. I’ve been criticized by both men and women that opposite-gender friendships are either impossible or inappropriate — especially if one or both parties are married.
As I get older, I feel increasingly frustrated by this. Maybe part of that is just a reflection of my changing beliefs about love, sex, and monogamy. And part of it is, I think, the futility of our attempts to try to define, categorize, and direct love.
In my opinion, friendship doesn’t give a damn what gender we are. So why are we making things so complicated?
Author’s note: This essay was originally published in 2019, in the publication P.S. I Love You. Their domain recently expired, and my essays have since been deleted, so I will be republishing them in my own publication.
© Y.L. Wolfe 2019
Y.L. Wolfe is a gender-curious, solosexual, perimenopausal, childless crone-in-training, exploring these experiences through writing, photography, and art. You can find more of her work at yaelwolfe.com. If you love her writing, leave her a tip over at Ko-fi.
More on friendships: