55. The (boy)friend litmus test.

Thesis: If you don't want to be my friend, I'll never want to be your girlfriend.

Sometimes I'll go to parties or clubs and meet interesting people. Sometimes I'll go to class and meet interesting people. We'll talk about research, politics, or the awesomeness of hipster fashion. Sometimes we'll flirt a bit. Sometimes we'll go out on a date or two. A while ago, I met a fascinating guy at a party. He studied the history of jazz music, and we had a great discussion for a couple of hours. He was cute, but above all he seemed like an interesting person. Since we hang out in the same circles, I was hoping to maybe have made a new friend. Once it hit 4am, I bid my farewells and headed home alone.

...And the next day, he walked past me avoiding eye-contact.

In that moment, I lost all interest in him as a friend, much less anything else. I was also left with a sour taste in my mouth because it wasn't the first time this had happened.

I hate bull-poo. If you want to get into my pants, fine. There's no need for deceitful pleasantries. If you want to date me, ditto. I will never understand how someone can be interested - supposedly genuinely so - in someone only as long as there's potential for romance. How can you want to date someone if you don't want to be their friend?

Let me tell you a couple of other stories. A long, long time ago, I dated someone very briefly but long enough to break their heart when it ended. He turned into this guy. We don't see each other all that often, but when we do, there's no faked interest. I'm just as human to him as I was when we were making out. Another story is more recent. I started talking with a unimate at a bar. He was hammered and came onto me quite heavily. After a while, I told him I had to go home for a Skype date with my boyfriend. A couple of days later, I saw him on campus. He gave me a timid look at first, but then sat down next to me. He kindly ignored the fact I hadn't washed my hair in way too long and looked like a zombie in my baggy clothes and bloodshot eyes from late-night cramming, and started asking me about my day. In that moment, I filed him into my "future friend" box. "Future friend", and "someone I respect". He'd just passed the litmus test with flying colours.