To some, lifelong friendships with members of the opposite sex are commonplace. To others, the idea seems fictitious. As the beloved pessimist Harry Burns from When Harry Met Sally once said, “Men and women can never be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.” 

Perhaps childhood friendships prove some kind of exception, but even some of those tend to get sticky. What about the friends you meet later in life when you’re both single, young, and attractive? Somehow, the age-old question continues to find its way to the forefront of young adult minds: Can men and women be just friends?

Based on recent personal experience, my vote is becoming a resounding “no.”

It was the summer of 2024, and I had just completed my junior year of college. Not only had the spring semester ended, but so had my six-month-long wave of optimism. 

All year, I had prayed to find a solid friend group at Moravian, and, at the time, I was devastated to find out that making new girlfriends was a lot harder than it looked.

My birthday in April depressed me, and when May hit, I had declared an early-life crisis. Unfortunately, my chosen vices included taking full advantage of my now legitimate ID and seducing select men. 

One particular Friday night, I got all dolled up and took myself out to dinner.

Naturally, I visited my favorite Italian restaurant on the north side of Bethlehem, The Brick. I sat at the bar and ordered a drink. And then a second. And then a third. And then, before I knew it, I was conversing with the local drunks about who would win the “big game” (I wasn’t even following baseball). 

I paid my bill and received a compliment or two from the other lonely singles around me. At this point, there was only one thing left to do: call my girlfriend to pick my drunk ass up.

…

Two hours later, I received a text from a friend in my apartment building who lived directly below my sister and me. We will call him Cody. 

Cody and I had met about six months prior. I was using the gym facilities in the building when he first approached me with his oh-so-cool AirPods and nonchalant demeanor. 

“Hey, do you pay for parking here? I need some advice.” 

“Yeah,” I replied casually. “You’ll get towed if you don’t. I would suggest talking to the landlord.” 

“Nahh, I’m not paying more than I have to. I’ll just sneak into the lot across the street, but don’t tell anyone … hey, can I get your number?” 

The next week, he invited me to a Christmas party. I attended, but not without informing him first that it wasn’t anything romantic, because I was “talking to a guy from school” (That was a complete lie. I just wasn’t into him). 

“Oh, totally, I’m just trying to make some new friends in the building!”

From then on, we hung out occasionally. Playing pool and reading each other’s Letterboxd reviews. Sometimes, we had fun together, and other times, he was a bit too loud-mouthed and superficial for my liking. But, he was company.

…

Then, on a special May night, Cody texted me to come to his place and watch a movie. 

Me: Do you have alcohol? 

Him: Yes … bring some glasses.

… 

I headed to 202 around 11 p.m.

Cody suggested that we watch a movie in his bedroom, claiming that his roommate had moved out last month, so he had to move his TV. The tone of the night was already shifting (I should have known then!)

After half an hour of sipping White Claws in our fancy glasses and watching Black Swan on his absurdly tiny couch, I randomly decided to pull one of my classic moves. 

Him: “My shoulders are killing me, I must’ve worked out too hard this week.” (*swoon)

Me: “Here, let me help you with that, I’m a great masseuse.”

Now, I’ll admit in the comfort of my anonymous column that I was bored. And my loneliness made me want to feel close to someone, so why not rub this guy’s shoulders? I wasn’t expecting anything else to happen. 

As I was straddling this dude’s back and driving a knuckle deep into his right deltoid, he swiftly untangled himself from me, grabbed me by the face, and planted one on me. 

Damn, I really must be great at massages, it works every time!

He pulled back and said, “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” 

I’m shocked. This whole time, we had such a clearly platonic friendship … right?

“Really?” I giggled.

“Well, yeah!” he said as if to say “Well, duh!” 

“And another thing, I made up the thing about parking in December. I just wanted an excuse to get your number.”

…

Weeks later, Cody moved out of the building. We had formed a bond, but I was glad to see him go. The friendship simply got too complicated to remain enjoyable. 

Were we friends? Were we more? Did either of us know?

I’ve hardly heard from him since that August when he moved, but the experience left a lasting imprint. Even when clear boundaries are set in male-female relationships, there is always a chance (and maybe a pretty good one) of those boundaries eventually being crossed.

Maybe one day, I really will be “just friends” with a guy, 

The perpetual dater.