If what you are seeking is redemption and an escape strategy from Amicus Plaga (Friend of the zone?) , there is a dedicated Wikihow DIY page for that.
The Amicus Plaga
The friendzone is a cold and dark place where one must, unless they be blessed with a nice set of teeth, good vocals, a good vocation and the right pedigree and more than an average share of luck, live at some point in their lives.The friendzone is the proverbial limbo; it is the one place where one must put aside all hopes and dreams of ever throwing small rocks at the other party’s window for anything but a friendly chat.
The zone is cruel, it is where unrequited love goes to fester like a wound and the heart becomes gangrenous. It is where all hell refuses to break loose or even boil over, nothing much happens once this is the status quo.
The shift to the zone is normally called, and rightly so, relegation.
The stages of grief apply in Relegation. In the first few hours, the man contends that the zoner is merely playing and is not keen on adding another house to an already teeming housing zone. After a while, he attempts to negotiate a compromise that would see him defined within the spectrum between serious things and friend zoning limits. Within this spectrum, he can enjoy the perks of serious things without really offering the services required, except the primal ones.
Unrequited love is too general a term to adequately define the friendzone and the latter can only be, at best, a subset of the former. The rationale is that the zoning commission shifts the locus of responsibility from wholly being on the zoner to the one who expresses love and emotions. The friendzone is not a sexist term, albeit the cultural tendency to assume only one sex is friendzoned. This cultural tendency is an evolutionary bias which increases the chances that more often than not in human relationships, it is the male species hunting down the female species.
No male will ever friendzone a woman he would not go further with, and he will harbor constant temptations to get frisky. Even if the woman is not in the man’s taste, as long as she has the right organs, and even then not always, he will always either harbor or later develop sexual feelings towards her. It is what is famously known as the Mermaid Theory. The Bro Code might be in our DNA. Men might actually be biologically wired to friendzone their friends’ lovers and spouses, and our gas goes now to protect us from falling into the projections of the Mermaid Theory.
Evolutionary Role of Amicus Plaga?
Living within this zone demands that one identify their utility and stick within its lane.
The zonee must contend with his new found status, and must always act as if the testosterone levels are not spiked when she raises his arm to her breasts to get his opinion on her new bra, or the perkiness of her assets. She now sees him through a sexless lens, where he is a valuable asset that cannot be core; he fulfills a certain cause which might be an emotional, financial, social, or simply convenient crutch.
He has to contend with constant barrage of questions about his own species, and the rules of the friendzone demand that he must side with her in all wars pitting the sexes. He must constantly snitch on his own species, and strategize on other males without feeling as if he is crossing into the sexuality spectrum. In this zone, the zonee must see beyond his own sex, see himself, or herself, as women are fraught to be zoned too, as being sexless.
The zonee must neuter his own interests and take an advisory role. Within this defined limits, the one must be ready to provide pro-bono services. He must form an opinion about the man with a big forehead and visible halitosis who makes her laugh as he watches from a creep corner.
I suspect that this has gone to the level of outsourced voyeuristic services where the zoned man must observe her and the one she chose not to send to the abyss in a romantic act and offer an opinion. Unlikely you say? I will point you to the fact that in the preceding analogy, I drew an image of the zoned man peeping through the window at his woman in a coital act with another (the lucky bugger) man, or woman, in case the zoner’s interests are that way. In the mental image you had, you saw the act and could even smell the blooming flower of the bush behind you, couldn’t you?
How then is this different to the man who must listen to fine details of a sexual act in which the zoning female was involved, and then form an opinion about certain things? Such things include but are not limited to the size of certain organs used during the act, certain motions and styles of getting it on, and whether or not the groan and cry-tears, with sniffling-at the time when the train left one station for the real world, is normal. Isn’t that man a voyeur, hired to provide a non-professional opinion about an act to which he initially saw himself as a player?
The zoned man has the inherent duty that millions of years have placed on his species, but without the benefits a boyfriend or spouse would be entitled to. He must answer the calls where she is crying of heartbreak in the middle of the night and most importantly, perform all automotive functions for the woman.
Any attempt to break away from its chains is bound to be countered with the manipulative, emotional-genocide worded in the questions “I thought we were friends?” There is no standard or advisable comeback to this rhetorical question. The only way is, if you are a king like the biblical David, to send all her suitors to the combat front lines and offer them as a sacrifice. Once one is placed within this district of despair, it would take more than just a prayer to prophets of all three major religions, and to the agnostic skepticism and atheistic belief in action-reaction, to get out of the zone.
If within the vicinity of each other, zoned individuals will immediately be suspicious, hostile and jealous of each other, at least individually, but will warm up to each other once they notice the common despair that haunts their eyes. They will play along, like good pets, to the zoning female, and help each other pretend to have lost all sexual interest. In cases where the woman is recently single, whether by choice of Force Majeure, the competition in the zone will rise exponentially.
The zoned individuals inherently know the Bro Code cannot apply now, and that there is a small window of opportunity to be kissed drunkenly and then apologized to frantically in the morning [an unnecessary act of self-preservation]. The Rebound Card is in the wild, but it is a potent one and should only be played when one has a sure hand…and, a hand in the bush is worth two elsewhere.