Once upon a time in a far away land, a girl met a boy and he did not immediately expect sex. Wherever this happened, it was not in Isla Vista.
The other night at a party, my lively conversation with a hilarious guy came screeching to a halt when out of the blue, he asked if I wanted to make out. After I politely declined his offer, he called me a tease and walked away. I should have been shocked and insulted, but similar scenarios had happened frequently enough that this particular instance only merited an eye roll. I have learned by now that you can talk to IV boys about anything from sports teams to hummus flavors but all they actually hear you saying is “I’m drunk, I’d love to hook up right now.” The minute I mention I have a boyfriend, there is suddenly somewhere else that they to be, and I find myself consistently lacking legitimate male friends.
Now, before this turns into an unbridled bashing of horny boys, I’d like to backtrack and extrapolate. After complaining to my friends about this recurring problem, we have developed a hypothesis. Maybe long ago, young men in Isla Vista were innocent, shy, polite, and pure. Generations passed and the salty air and hot beach babes slowly penetrated their skulls, tousling their hair and slipping a mischievous twinkle in their charming eyes. Word spread throughout the land of the typical Isla Vista-college-guy demeanor; pretty soon everyone in California was aware of the bro tank and what it implied. Year after year, every new batch of eager boys arrives on the UCSB scene fresh out of high school, spilling over with hormones, curiosity, nerves, and a desperate desire to fit in with this fascinating breed of laidback, badass dudes.
At first, friendliness and politeness is their first technique. This is what their parents taught them. Be sweet, make jokes, and hold doors open. But that won’t last long. Observational learning at their first few ragers teaches them how to snag girls quickly, and conversations with the opposite sex become less about getting acquainted; they instead serve as segues for steamy makeout sessions—maybe more, if they’re lucky. This happens time and time again without fail until they have it down to a science. They are living the college life: many ladies, no responsibilities. Looking at it from that perspective, it makes sense that a guy would get pissed off when I throw off his pickup routine by turning down a sexual invite. Who am I to cramp his style? He’s just trying to have a good time, not form some boring platonic friendship.
Based on this hypothesis, I believe that beneath all that outward douchebaggery, there is a sweet guy within even the most notorious IV playboy. One who can genuinely enjoy a conversation with a girl even when he knows there is no chance of a bedroom conquest. I knew plenty of these in high school, so I know it’s a realistic concept. If you think about it, having a close girl friend is a sweet deal for a guy: she’ll give him relationship and style advice, introduce him to her hot friends, and best of all, not get jealous or whiny when he doesn’t text back.
The above description is part of the package deal I have to offer as a platonic female friend. In return, all I want is a few cool guys to provide endearingly immature humor and a little brotherly companionship. No compliments required, only honesty. You can hook up with all the girls you want, but not me–your buddy! Let’s just be friends. Is that too much to ask?