Category Archives: unsolicited advice

The Friend Zone is a Myth

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This week’s Daily Northwestern column.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, many of us are probably thinking the same thing : Dating is hard.

And it is, especially in college. People who look for serious relationships (as opposed to casual dating or hookups) face plenty of challenges, such as jam-packed schedules, breaks away from campus, study abroad semesters, plenty of temptation, and, of course, the constant specter of graduation.

Some might say that friendship is another one of those challenges. The concept of the “friend zone” isn’t a new one. On UrbanDictionary.com, where it was the “Word of the Day” back in October 2011, “friend zone” is defined as “What you attain after you fail to impress a woman you’re attracted to. Usually initiated by the woman saying, ‘You’re such a good friend.'”

Despite the gendered definition that UD provides, I’ve heard both girls and guys claim that their crush rejected their advances because they were “just such a good friend” or because they “didn’t want to ruin the friendship.”

I think the friend zone concept is mostly bunk. First of all, the fact that many relationships do start off with the couple being good friends shows that friendship itself isn’t exactly a cold shower.

Second, the friend zone seems like a convenient (if well-intended) excuse that people use when a friend whom they see as nothing more expresses romantic interest. After all, it’s never pleasant to have to tell a good friend that, for whatever reason, you just don’t see them as boyfriend/girlfriend material. And often people might not know the reason for that lack of connection: Maybe they just didn’t click with the person, or there wasn’t chemistry, or whatever you want to call it.

In such a situation, it makes sense that someone would say something like, “I just don’t see you as more than a friend.” And it makes sense that the person they’re rejecting would conclude that the friendship is the problem.

But it’s not. The problem is the person just doesn’t like them that way.

Of course, some people do choose not to date a friend they have feelings for because they don’t want to jeopardize the friendship. However, such people are probably simply valuing friendship over romance for the moment, and that’s their choice — it doesn’t mean becoming their friend was a bad idea.

Sometimes the friend zone explanation arises when a person puts a lot of energy into being a good friend to someone they’re interested in and gets frustrated when their emotions aren’t reciprocated. Since humans are wired to find patterns, the natural assumption is that the friendship caused their crush not to like them back.

However, as important as it is, being a good friend doesn’t entitle you to someone’s romantic attention. In fact, nothing entitles you to that.

It makes me sad when I see advice columns in women’s magazines exhorting them not to act like good friends to the men they like for fear of getting “friend zoned.” These columns generally advise women not to do anything overly friendly, such as worrying about a guy’s health or listening to him talk about his problems. Caring actions like these might prompt the dreaded “You’re such a good friend” comment.

However, unless you’re looking for the most casual of flings, friendship first makes a lot of sense — it allows you to get to know the person well before getting too invested, it helps them understand your boundaries, and it allows you to make sure that both of you are looking for the same thing from each other.

Especially at our age, people vary a lot in terms of the sorts of sexual and/or romantic relationships they’re looking for. Some just want to hook up, some want to date several people, some want an exclusive partner until distance forces them to separate, and others are looking for something serious and long-term. Getting to know a potential partner as a friend first is a great way to prevent hurting each other when you discover that your goals diverge.

Besides, if it never develops into anything more, having a new friend never hurts anyone.

This Valentine’s Day, ignore the cliched advice and go with your gut. People are either going to like you, or they’re not. But they’re more likely to like you if you treat them well.

“If You’re Fat, Then What Am I?”

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There are a lot of misconceptions out there about body image and eating disorders. I can’t even begin to address all of them here. But there’s one I’ve been thinking about lately–that problems with body image are caused solely by comparing yourself to unrealistic standards, and can be solved by simply comparing yourself to the “real” bodies around you instead.

First, a disclaimer–I’ve never had anorexia or bulimia. However, I’m not entirely out of my depth here. Had I gone to see a psychiatrist at some point prior to this year, he or she would probably have taken note of my obsessive calorie-counting, severe dietary restrictions, compulsive weight-checking and fat-pinching, and general conviction that I was “fat,” and diagnosed me with something called “eating disorder not otherwise specified,” or “EDNOS.” This means that one doesn’t meet the diagnostic criteria for any of the eating disorders, but is definitely disordered nonetheless.

(For the record, I’m much better now.)

Anyway, one thing I remember very vividly from my years of thinking I’m fat was one particular response that I often encountered. Some people (mostly other girls), upon learning how I felt, would respond with this: “If you’re fat, then what am I?”

Now, I understand exactly where this comes from. Many of my peers were probably insecure, too, and it makes sense that they would be reminded of their own insecurity once I mentioned mine. Since I was indeed thinner than many other people, that response makes sense on some level. If I’m fat, they must be obese!

But it doesn’t really work that way. It would certainly be convenient if people’s self-concepts were always rational and based on reality. But the very definition of mental problems is that they’re distortions of reality–they’re unrealistic. That’s why grief after the death of a loved one isn’t considered a mental disorder, but depression is.

And that’s exactly why “If you’re fat then what am I” is not an effective response. At the time, I didn’t give two shits what other people were. It didn’t enter my thought process. In my case, my conviction that I was fat was mostly caused by cultural factors; namely, the fact that Russians are fucking preoccupied with beauty and weight. Absolutely preoccupied. It was also caused by years of ballet lessons, my depressive personality (which magnifies personal flaws), the belief that I could lose 10-20 pounds and still be healthy, fear that guys wouldn’t find me attractive if I had folds on my stomach, and many other causes.

For other people with body image and eating issues, the causes may be different. Some people develop the feeling that they’re unable to control their environment, so they control the only thing they can–their body. Others may start out actually overweight, start to diet and lose weight, and find that they’re addicted to the feeling of getting thinner. Others develop an overwhelming guilt whenever they eat, especially when they eat unhealthily, and they start to purge after eating. Some may have friends who constantly talk about their bodies’ flaws (remember Mean Girls?) and start to think the same way.

Whatever the causes are, these issues are much too complicated to be defeated by a simple glance at someone who weighs more than you.

Of course, “If you’re fat then what am I” also fails one of the most basic requirements of being a good listener–don’t change the subject to yourself. If your friend feels crappy and needs to talk to you, don’t make it about you. If your own issues are making it difficult for you to listen, tell your friend that. Sure, they might be disappointed that you can’t listen to them, but that’s much better than how they’re going to feel when you take their pain and turn it into a conversation about you and your weight.

It’s easy to resent people who, according to you, “should” be perfectly happy with their weight but are not. I can’t say I don’t get a twinge of annoyance whenever I witness a girl much smaller than me freaking out about her weight. But then I remind myself that she’s not me. Poor body image seems almost like a cliche among young women these days, but it’s so much more complex than you might think.

You Don’t Need Alcohol

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[This is my first column for the Daily Northwestern, NU’s student newspaper. I can’t find the link on their website so I’m not linking to it, but here’s the full piece.]

You don’t need alcohol.

Wait, hear me out. You really don’t need it.

Before I came to college, I obviously expected that there’d be a lot of drinking and partying going on here. What I didn’t know is why. I grew up in a large, loud Russian family, where alcohol flows freely at dinner parties and camping trips, but never takes center stage. My parents seem mosty the same to me whether they’ve had five drinks each or not a single drop, and they seemed to have just as much fun without alcohol or with it.

I was puzzled, then, when I came to college and found that alcohol was often–not always, but often–the main event. As far as I knew, most people readily admit that they don’t like the taste of alcohol, at least not of the sort usually served at college parties. Dealing with the unpleasant consequences of drinking too much is a drag. Meaningful connections aren’t usually made while one is drunk. So why?

The answer both suprised and disappointed me: people think they need it.

I started hearing the same story from almost everyone I asked. “I don’t really feel comfortable with people unless I’ve been drinking.” “I can’t talk to girls without a few drinks.” “I could never hook up with someone if we’re not both drunk.”

One friend even confided to me that he literally can’t have sex if he’s not drunk. “Why not?” I asked. “I’m more of a traditional person,” he said. “I don’t feel comfortable doing that with someone I don’t really know if I’m sober.”

Could it really be that the brilliant, accomplished people I go to school with can’t make friends or hook up without alcohol?

The answer, I think, is no. I think we’ve been deluding ourselves. Sure, it can be fun to get drunk. But should it ever be something we “need” to function socially?

I think I can attest to the fact that it’s not necessary. I used to be painfully shy and incapable of having a conversation with anyone my age. Since coming to college, I’ve truly branched out and made many friends. Yet I’ve never been drunk and can count the number of parties I’ve been to on the fingers of one hand. People, if the girl who used to bring encyclopedias to read at birthday parties can do it, anyone can.

I also don’t think we should be using alcohol to help us ignore our own values. If you’re just not the sort of person who wants to sleep with people you don’t know, that’s totally fine. I’m not either. If you think it’s perfectly okay but feel too insecure to do it without alcohol, that’s something you can work on.

That applies to making friends, too. This school is full of really cool, really interesting people. You’re going to find people who think you’re awesome. It’s just a matter of convincing yourself of that. So practice in front of the mirror, get friends to introduce you, do whatever you have to do. Having the confidence to approach people and connect with them is a wonderful thing, and it’ll be with you always–long after the party’s over and the alcohol’s all gone.

How to “Be There” for a Depressed Person

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So. I’ve talked about things not to say to a depressed person before. People have often asked me how, then, one should go about it instead.

One of the nicest things that ever happen to depressed people is when one of our close friends or family members tells us emphatically that they want to “be there” for us. This is great. Depressives aren’t easy to deal with, and anyone who chooses to do so deserves respect.

However.

There are right ways to go about being supportive, and there are wrong ways to go about it. I’m going to try to illuminate some of the right ways here. Don’t worry, it’s not hard.

  • Be honest and specific about the extent to which you are able and willing to help.
  • If you’re not, one out of two things will happen–the depressed person won’t take you seriously and won’t come to you for help anyway, or they will overestimate the extent to which you can help them, and this leads to extreme frustration for both of you.
  • If you’re very busy most of the time, tell them a specific time when you’re free to talk. This is important because depressed people often feel even worse at the thought of there being nobody available to talk to them, or of people being busier than they are.
  • If you’re available to listen but have no idea what to say in response, tell them that. They might be able to suggest ways to respond, or they might tell you that just listening helps.
  • If you don’t really like hearing depressing things for personal reasons but still want to help, explain that, and offer to help them do things to take their mind off of their depression, such as watch movies or cook together. Sometimes, that helps as much or more than just listening to someone.
  • Be a bit kinder than you would normally be.
    • Depressed people are, for lack of a better word, very fragile. They get upset by things that “normal” people don’t get upset by.
    • This is not the time to make “constructive criticism” or point out mistakes that the person has made. For instance, some depressed people have substance abuse problems. Do not say “You need to stop drinking or else you’ll only get worse.” All that does is make the person feel guilty and ashamed. First of all, you’re (I’m assuming) not a therapist, so you’re not an expert on how to cure depression. Second, if you’d like to make suggestions for improvement, frame them them very carefully. Perhaps, “I’ve noticed that you tend to feel worse after you’ve been drinking. Have you thought about trying to stop?”
    • If this sounds like sugarcoating or handling people with kid gloves, maybe it is. Maybe it seems silly to you. But remember that this isn’t about you. It’s about someone else.
    • In relation to the first point I made, be really sensitive about how you tell the person that you’re busy/otherwise unavailable and can’t talk to them or help them. Don’t just be like, “I have to go to bed now. Bye.” Say something like, “I need to go to bed because I’m really tired, but I hope you feel better and I’ll talk to you again soon.” Remember that unless you specify that you’re tired but that you wish you could help, a depressed person is likely to assume that you’re just trying to give them the slip. Try not to be offended by this. It’s not because you haven’t been a good enough friend; it’s just how their brain works.
  • Remember that there are many ways to help.
    • If you’re not comfortable listening to someone talk on and on about really sad things, that’s perfectly understandable and okay. If you still want to help them, there are other ways.
    • As I mentioned earlier, one thing that really helps depressed people is getting them out of bed/off the couch and doing something. Offer a pleasant but engaging activity that doesn’t require too much social interaction or new situations–watching movies, cooking, exercising, going to see a lecture or exhibit, going to a small social gathering (NOT a huge party with lots of drinking), taking a walk, going shopping, etc. If you’re both students and have a lot of homework/studying to do, you can invite the person to do that with you. Even if you’re not actually interacting, it’s nice to be around people.
    • You can also help in very small but practical ways. Get notes for them if they miss class (but encourage them to try to go next time), tell mutual friends that they’re going through a hard time and need extra support, help them search for a therapist or psychiatrist, that type of stuff.
  • Don’t make it about you.
    • I can’t stress this enough. Honestly, the shit that can come out of a depressed person’s mouth is pretty ridiculous at times. I’m obviously not proud to admit this, but I have occasionally been known to scream (electronically or otherwise) things like “FINE GO AHEAD AND HATE ME” and “I GUESS YOU WON’T CARE IF I DIE” at people.
    • This, I’m sorry to say, is just part of the package. Depression really fucks with people’s ability to process things rationally. Although there are things you can do to avoid such a reaction (see “Be a bit kinder than you would normally be,” above), it may still happen, and it’s not your fault. Don’t make this about yourself, don’t react defensively, don’t accuse the person of not appreciating your friendship.
    • If they say something that really does bother you, it’s perfectly fine to bring it up when they’re calmer and less upset. But don’t do it while they’re freaking out about something.
  • Be really careful if you’re communicating via texting or the internet.
    • The reason I say this is because this is where I’ve most often seen things go terribly wrong. Written communication has a way of seeming much more curt, rude, and inconsiderate than it really is. Depressed people are already overly sensitive to things like this, so communicating in writing can make it even worse.
    • That’s not to say that you should rule texting and the internet out entirely. Just take care to make up for the lack of body language. You can’t smile reassuringly, touch someone on the shoulder, or hold their hand over the internet. So if you’re saying something that can be interpreted ambiguously, be very cautious. With depressed people, there’s a certain Murphy’s Law–if it can be interpreted negatively, it will be.
    • Some ways to combat this are to use emoticons to help convey emotion, to express things more clearly, and to ask the person how he or she is interpreting what you’re saying as a way of checking in.
  • Try not to offer advice unless they ask for it.
    • This is a big one. I’ve written before about the tendency of people to want to “fix” others by immediately offering them advice, but this really fails when it comes to depressed people.
    • First of all, depression is different from ordinary sadness in a qualitative, not quantitative, way. In other words, it’s not “more” sadness, it’s a “different” sadness. What works for you when you’re feeling a bit down probably isn’t going to be what works for someone with a clinical disorder. This is why all those entreaties to “just put yourself out there!” and “just smile!” and “just get some sleep!” really, really fall on deaf ears when it comes to depressed people. Trust me, we’ve tried all of that, and much more.
    • Second, advice probably isn’t what they’re looking for (unless they tell you so). When people are upset, not only are they not in the right frame of mind to evaluate your suggestions accordingly, but what they probably really want is for someone to agree that things are hard for them and to sympathize with that. In other words, don’t be like, “Oh, that’s no big deal, you can just try x, y, and z.” Try “Wow, that must be really hard for you, but I believe that you’ll get better.”
  • Never ever make the person feel guilty or indebted for needing your help.
    • This is rarely done maliciously; I think it’s usually by accident. Sometimes people who are close to a depressed person become frustrated or resentful, which is natural. However, just because it’s natural doesn’t mean you should necessarily express it–at least not in the way that most people do.
    • If you find that helping the person is taking up too much of your time and energy, that’s absolutely a fair conclusion to come to. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to blame the depressed person for it. You choose how to spend your time, not they.
    • The correct way to address this, in my opinion, is to explain calmly that you feel like you’ve been putting too much of yourself into helping this person. Explain that, since you’re not a therapist, you can’t devote as much time and energy as the person might need. Clarify that you still care about them, but that you need to focus on yourself more.
    • The reason this is so important is twofold. First of all, depressed people can’t help the fact that they need support. They just do. Making them feel ashamed of that does no good. Second, some depressed people are suicidal, and one of the biggest causes of suicidality is feeling like a burden to others. This is why you should try not to make a depressed person feel like a burden to you.

    So there you go. I’m sure there will be a followup post to this because it’s such a big issue for me. Feel free to ask if you have any questions!

    Insecurity

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    [TMI Warning]

    About five years ago, we read Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter in my 10th grade English class. In order to facilitate our understanding of what it must’ve been like for Hester Prynne to walk around with a letter “A” pinned to her clothing, our teacher had us come up with our own biggest flaws and spend a day wearing a decorated letter to represent them. When people inevitably asked what the letters were for, we could explain in as much or as little detail as we wanted.

    Of course, most of the kids in my class chose fairly innocuous “flaws”–perfectionism, laziness, stuff like that.

    But I chose insecurity.

    I wouldn’t be diagnosed with depression for nearly three more years, but all the bits and pieces of my forthcoming diagnosis were already starting to fall into place. Just a week before our letter-wearing assignment, I’d been somewhat unceremoniously dumped by my first real boyfriend, whom I’d told several weeks before that, in tears, that I can’t be happy if I don’t like myself. (The poor guy had no idea how to respond to that–it wouldn’t be until my sophomore year of college that I found a group of friends who did–and I suppose I can’t blame him for running away from my teenage self like a man on fire.)

    Although I didn’t know it at the time, I’d accidentally stumbled upon a huge predictor of poor mental health–an unstable sense of self. I had no idea who “I” was apart from what people told me. My friends thought I was overdramatic and overemotional, so I was. My parents thought I was immature, so I was. A guy at school made fun of my big ass, so I was fat. I was pretty and intelligent only because (and only as long as) my friends and family told me so.

    Lacking my own independent and stable ideas of who I was, I ran to people for affirmation. They would provide it, and I’d feel satisfied for a short time. I thought that that’s how life was meant to be.

    When someone comes to you expressing thoughts of insecurity, it’s natural to want to “fix” everything for them by assuring them that their fears are baseless. What are you talking about, you’re so thin! Of course you’re smart! Guys would be lucky to date you!

    But here’s the problem–even if your assertions are absolutely correct, you’re not really doing the person any favors by making them. Rather than making their self-concept subject to the people who bring them down, you’re only making it subject to you and your affirmation.

    My advice? Challenge your insecure friends or loved ones to define themselves through their actions, not through arbitrary labels like “pretty,” “smart,” and “mature.” If they’re insecure about a societally-imposed value like skinniness or coolness, help them see that they’re no less of a person even if they don’t fulfill these expectations.

    That’s how I ultimately conquered my own insecurity. To this day, I really have no idea if I’m “smart enough” or “friendly enough” or whatever. I’m constantly trying to learn new things and make new friends, and that’s pretty much all I need. If I’m asked to describe myself, I try to use actions rather than adjectives. After all, one can argue whether or not I’m really “kind,” but one can’t argue with the fact that I started a campus organization dedicated to helping people.

    My blue letter “I” is still lying somewhere in my closet along with all the other high school crap I’ve been too lazy to throw away. It’s hard to believe now that I was once the sort of person who would’ve worn it.