The "Friend Zone" Versus the "Fuck Zone"

Gonna start this new season or episode or whatever with a few random things I’ve been considering that are in no way related to each other: Let’s give a moment of silence for my ex boyfriend who majored in communications but that ended up being the very thing we were incapable of. The irony.If I WERE an object–which, while I won’t get into it right this second, the way marriage is an economic proposition for women and how we can legally enter a long term contractual agreement with an emphasis on sex and financial coercion under the pretense of “marriage”, but in the USA ACTUAL sex work (which is really just shorter term agreements with similar possibilities for complication) are still illegal– but anyways, if I WERE an object (a topic brought up from the Ali Wong Netflix special segment about trophy wives) I think I’d be an eerie cursed artifact.Hear me out– terrifyingly all-powerful to some, worshipped at times, albeit somewhat fearfully. To others, a world-ending horror. It fits.Maybe if the Cara Delevigne “Enchantress” villianess from Suicide Squad hadn’t been such crockshit, I would have identified more with her and less of Harley Quinn. (Probably not, though.)The new season of The Handmaid’s Tale from Hulu is here and it hits a little different when your neighbors are Amish and you see a group of 6 women walking in their garb across the field on your drive back from town. I am literally not making that up.Also, I once told “Strider” that he reminded me of Nick from The Handmaid’s Tale and we’re not gonna dissect that any further but let’s just say the little monologue on stubbornness and stupidity is really fucking with me.Spring has sprung, the greenery is out, and my seasonal affective disorder has been released like a cape, safely tucked away for the summer. I just came back from Arizona after being fully vaccinated and hiked all around Phoenix and Scottsdale with one of my best friends. This woman is basically a mother fucking champ because she is essentially a single mom in a lot of ways and by herself because her partner travels a lot for work right now and is in a very sensitive career spot, so I got to hang out with her and her child, who is only 15 months old but essentially is a full toddler already (because what else would you expect when his dad is actually 7 feet tall). That baby is SO smart. We don’t give enough credit to methods of communication that differ from our norm in adulthood, and the intelligence of babies reflects this.We took him hiking almost every day and talked a lot about anxiety, the state of the world, raising children in this social climate and time of uncertainty, naivety and innocence, and women in sports. Lots of fun rants coming at you soon.  Back on topic for the day– A theme near and dear to what I’m sure is almost every woman’s heart. To those who may be unaware and live under a questionably larger rock than Patrick Star from Spongebob, the “friend zone” is a mythological creation by misogynistic men who think it is every woman’s obligation to inherently be drawn to fucking them. Apparently, humanity’s purpose towards collaboration and social or emotional support MUST benefit men sexually in some way, else they consider it “rude” and a “slight” if you can see value in them beyond, and excluding, their reproductive fitness.  Forgive me for not giving a shit.  The “fuck zone”, a response to this so called “friend zone”, first introduced to my by the “Fuck the Patriarchy” feminist splendor of an Instagram account run by several feisty women in India, is