Bro-Zoned
My life
There is one thing in this world that most everyone has experienced: the friend-zone. It’s very common, well, for guys anyways. But what happens when a girl gets friend-zoned? For starters it’s a bit uncommon, plus, it’s not the same as it is for boys. A better term would be bro-zoned. Welcome to the story of my life.
The Beginning
When I was growing up, there were all of three girls in my neighborhood –Coral, Shelby, and myself. But Coral’s my sister, so she doesn’t really count. This means I spent all my time playing outside with boys. One day in particular stands out in my memory.
Ware’s Creek, right down the road from my house, overflows every time it rains. The banks become sticky with muck and the streets fill up with water. The road turns into a giant swimming pool. It’s every little kids dream, and we always took advantage of it.
As you probably guessed, it was raining this day. The street had been converted into a swimming pool and we all flocked to it like pelicans to the sea. Nothing seems different about this day, right? Wrong. For some reason, there was a reporter on the street that day and he snapped a picture of us playing around in the water.
The next day my mom comes strolling into the bedroom I shared with my sister to show me a picture in the newspaper - more specifically, a picture of me, along with four other boys, playing in the flooded street. Want to know the worst part? The caption spoke of five boys. They thought I was a boy.
It Continues
Softball was the one thing I was truly good at. In 8th grade, I played on an intramural softball team for my middle school. I was one of two girls, so I guess you can’t really call it softball – it was more like baseball at that point. That alone was a bad sign. I came to find out during this time that being mistaken for a boy was not the only way to be bro-zoned.
It was the championship game and I was up to bat. I could hear my fellow classmates cheering me on. There was a surprising amount of people present to watch that day. I saw the pitch come at me in slow motion (cliché I know, but true). Crack! The ball went soaring over the heads of infielders and outfielders alike. Not a second passed before my legs were moving me around the bases – first, second, third and then home. I hit a homerun, and the first form of praise I received was from my coach.
“And that’s why she’s playing in the championship game. She hits like a man!”
I mean, seriously? I went from being mistaken for a boy to being compared to one.
Shit Gets Serious
It was my birthday. That’s probably why I remember this day so clearly. I was a college freshman and loving my newfound freedom. My friends, who just happened to be all guys, decided it would be a good idea to celebrate my 19th year of life by playing poker and drinking beer in one of the dorm rooms. At this point, I think it’s pretty clear that I spent my life hanging out with more guys than girls. In retrospect, that was probably a big part of the problem.
Anyways, that night was the night that I was officially dubbed an “honorary bro”. That’s right: it became official. I don’t remember exactly how the topic came up, I just remember Jason blurting out the five words that sealed my fate.
“It’s alright, Kasey’s a bro!”
Face-palm.
“Dude! I’m a girl. I have boobs!” I said.
Because anatomy proved my point, they had to change their stance a little. So I became an “honorary bro” instead.
The Real Kicker
At the end of freshman year my honorary bro-ness came back to haunt me. I – along with the rest of the girls on my floor – had a crush on this guy, Tyler. The thing is, he had a thing for my suitemate. As the year progressed, however, we became a lot closer. He became my movie buddy and good friend.
Two days before everybody was set to move out for the summer, my friends and I decided to have a party - our last hoorah of the year. It was great, up until the boys decided it was a good idea to have a contest to see who could smack my ass the most times in one night. There was a bruise in the shape of a hand on my butt the next day.
As the festivities were winding down, Tyler and I headed to my room to watch a movie. The Seed of Chucky was our movie of choice, so it’s understandable that we got bored and a bit…distracted. Now, don’t go getting a dirty mind – it was PG-13 stuff. It was awesome, I was finally getting somewhere with that crush of mine, until our friends Ian and Pooh Bear (Matt) came barging in. I hid behind Tyler in embarrassment.
“Are you wearing clothes?” Ian asked.
“Yes, you dumbass!”
It’s a good thing the lights were off because I was probably as red as a tomato. Thankfully, they didn’t linger very long. Their appearance seemed to bring Tyler back to reality, however. Things got really awkward, really quickly. He scampered out like a wounded puppy after that and didn’t talk to me until the night before we left. Even then, it was only to clarify that I was a bro and that night meant nothing to him.
Being considered a bro never really bothered me until that point. I felt like a failure to the female gender. Being bro-zoned in that sense is way worse than being friend-zoned. At least when you’re friend-zoned there is a slight chance at redeeming yourself. When you get bro-zoned, however, you’re done for.
The Beginning
When I was growing up, there were all of three girls in my neighborhood –Coral, Shelby, and myself. But Coral’s my sister, so she doesn’t really count. This means I spent all my time playing outside with boys. One day in particular stands out in my memory.
Ware’s Creek, right down the road from my house, overflows every time it rains. The banks become sticky with muck and the streets fill up with water. The road turns into a giant swimming pool. It’s every little kids dream, and we always took advantage of it.
As you probably guessed, it was raining this day. The street had been converted into a swimming pool and we all flocked to it like pelicans to the sea. Nothing seems different about this day, right? Wrong. For some reason, there was a reporter on the street that day and he snapped a picture of us playing around in the water.
The next day my mom comes strolling into the bedroom I shared with my sister to show me a picture in the newspaper - more specifically, a picture of me, along with four other boys, playing in the flooded street. Want to know the worst part? The caption spoke of five boys. They thought I was a boy.
It Continues
Softball was the one thing I was truly good at. In 8th grade, I played on an intramural softball team for my middle school. I was one of two girls, so I guess you can’t really call it softball – it was more like baseball at that point. That alone was a bad sign. I came to find out during this time that being mistaken for a boy was not the only way to be bro-zoned.
It was the championship game and I was up to bat. I could hear my fellow classmates cheering me on. There was a surprising amount of people present to watch that day. I saw the pitch come at me in slow motion (cliché I know, but true). Crack! The ball went soaring over the heads of infielders and outfielders alike. Not a second passed before my legs were moving me around the bases – first, second, third and then home. I hit a homerun, and the first form of praise I received was from my coach.
“And that’s why she’s playing in the championship game. She hits like a man!”
I mean, seriously? I went from being mistaken for a boy to being compared to one.
Shit Gets Serious
It was my birthday. That’s probably why I remember this day so clearly. I was a college freshman and loving my newfound freedom. My friends, who just happened to be all guys, decided it would be a good idea to celebrate my 19th year of life by playing poker and drinking beer in one of the dorm rooms. At this point, I think it’s pretty clear that I spent my life hanging out with more guys than girls. In retrospect, that was probably a big part of the problem.
Anyways, that night was the night that I was officially dubbed an “honorary bro”. That’s right: it became official. I don’t remember exactly how the topic came up, I just remember Jason blurting out the five words that sealed my fate.
“It’s alright, Kasey’s a bro!”
Face-palm.
“Dude! I’m a girl. I have boobs!” I said.
Because anatomy proved my point, they had to change their stance a little. So I became an “honorary bro” instead.
The Real Kicker
At the end of freshman year my honorary bro-ness came back to haunt me. I – along with the rest of the girls on my floor – had a crush on this guy, Tyler. The thing is, he had a thing for my suitemate. As the year progressed, however, we became a lot closer. He became my movie buddy and good friend.
Two days before everybody was set to move out for the summer, my friends and I decided to have a party - our last hoorah of the year. It was great, up until the boys decided it was a good idea to have a contest to see who could smack my ass the most times in one night. There was a bruise in the shape of a hand on my butt the next day.
As the festivities were winding down, Tyler and I headed to my room to watch a movie. The Seed of Chucky was our movie of choice, so it’s understandable that we got bored and a bit…distracted. Now, don’t go getting a dirty mind – it was PG-13 stuff. It was awesome, I was finally getting somewhere with that crush of mine, until our friends Ian and Pooh Bear (Matt) came barging in. I hid behind Tyler in embarrassment.
“Are you wearing clothes?” Ian asked.
“Yes, you dumbass!”
It’s a good thing the lights were off because I was probably as red as a tomato. Thankfully, they didn’t linger very long. Their appearance seemed to bring Tyler back to reality, however. Things got really awkward, really quickly. He scampered out like a wounded puppy after that and didn’t talk to me until the night before we left. Even then, it was only to clarify that I was a bro and that night meant nothing to him.
Being considered a bro never really bothered me until that point. I felt like a failure to the female gender. Being bro-zoned in that sense is way worse than being friend-zoned. At least when you’re friend-zoned there is a slight chance at redeeming yourself. When you get bro-zoned, however, you’re done for.