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I’ve been trying to actively achieve something for the last few months. I decided one night, while snuggling with one of my favorite gay boyfriends, that perhaps, if my entire friend group is made up of nearly all gay men that maybe this could prevent me from meeting straight men—and eventually find love. I made the conscious decision that I was going to go out and find me some straight, platonic male friends.

This advice wasn’t revolutionary. It had originally been given by my mother, who for all of her loving intensions, I believed had zero f*cking idea what she was talking about. The thing is, I don’t really like straight men. No, actually, I just flat out don’t like straight guys. They’re smelly, they like sports and they aren’t willing to go to a gay club with me and dance the night away. Why would I want to be friends with stupid straight people? –I actually do have two straight male friends (Holla, MO and Frenchie!) but they are a blessed enigma and they hook up with all of my other friends so actually who knows how normal they are to begin with. Anyway, after some deep personal contemplation (aka: a bottle of wine), I began to seriously consider her advice.

And so I went on a hunt. I trolled my usual bars on the Upper West Side, the ones where the straight guys hang out—only this time instead of looking for guys I had sexual interest in, I was looking for guys I could be buddies with. And it really didn’t take long for me to find a friend. Turned out: coolest dude ever. For the last month we’ve been chilling all the time. And then, a few weeks ago—like the drunken idiot I tend to be regularly—I made out with him. And you know what? F*ck being friends with straight guys. My original feelings were completely correct. This guy informs me that he can’t be friends with me if he’s “friend zoned” and storms out of my life.

I’ve come to the astonishing conclusion that if a guy wants to be “friends” with you. he’s nearly always looking to get in your pants. When I brought up this sad discovery to a friend of mine he looked at me, with a puzzled expression and said, “Um, well, yeah.” Apparently everyone knew about this and decided not to tell me.

Then, more personal contemplation (more wine). Why did I think I needed more friends anyway? Why did I think my friend group was lacking something? I thought about all of the amazing people in my life, my cousins in the West Village, my brothers and sisters, my friends and I realized, I’m extremely lucky. I have a fantastic support group of loving, kind and incredibly talented individuals who care deeply about me and want to me to succeed every day. My personal revelation gave me more comfort than I had had in a very long time. I realized that, honestly, if my brothers, sisters and cousins (Holla, Macks and Lawrence!) stayed single for the rest of their lives and we just lived together, that I would be perfectly happy with that. Sure, I’d love to get married and have a family, but do I need that? It may sound astonishing to some, but I really don’t. I don’t need anyone else. If they come along, fantastic, but if not, that’s okay too. You always have to love yourself first, most and last, and I’m happy that I’ve finally come to terms with that. I don’t need anyone else and I certainly don’t need any straight male friends. Straight guys? Who needs them? I’ve got my gays – shopping, vino, high heels, snuggling, and watching Sex and the City. I’m the luckiest girl in the world!