Out of His League

We are friends. We became friends by evolving from work acquaintances, to work friends, to outside-work friends. We are the same age, but he looks to me for advice, and I give it to him, mostly because I am an egomaniac, but also because, well, he asks, and guys feel the need to answer questions to hide how clueless we really are. Of course, it often has the opposite effect.

His name is William. When someone calls him Bill, he gently guides them back to William. "My Dad was Bill," he says, "and to avoid confusion, I am William." That's a bit of a white lie, though, because both his mom and his sister call him Will.

The trouble begins when he meets Sharon. He is smitten, and it is plain to me that she is not. Worse than that, she is out of his league. Way out of his league.

This is a fact William cannot accept. "I'll work my way out of the friend zone," he says, "and she'll think of me differently."

Sharon is not going to think of him differently. A far more likely outcome is she will be swept off her feet by some man who is as close to the perfect male specimen as she is to the female. I told William that, and I described the perfect male. I wanted to be kind, so I did not describe the ways he differs from perfection, but I will do that for you.

William is a little short, prematurely balding, not athletic, a little effeminate, something a bit off in his walk.

He has an OK job, and it's likely that's all he'll ever have. He is, and will continue to be, a better than average worker bee. He is witty, and kind, and he will be a good husband, but he will not attract a top-shelf woman.

"You think she's shallow. She's not shallow," he says.

I know she is not shallow. She is the product of her flawless genes and her experience, and she is attracted to who she is attracted to. She is not attracted to William. It's not her fault she is out of his league. It is no one's fault.

Most of us have an innate sense of who is available to us. We avoid setting our sights too high, and respond to the interest and affection that comes from people at, or near, our level. William's level sensor is not functioning properly.

I have done all I can do. I cannot stop him from pining for her, cannot stop the disappointment that I know is coming.

William goes away for a weekend to visit his parents, and I take the opportunity to talk to Sharon about the situation. When I tell her that he thinks of her every waking moment, and dreams about her when he sleeps, she is on the verge of tears. "I don't feel that way about him. What am I supposed to do?", she asks, and I tell her I don't know, but I figured it was better that she knew. We start talking about other topics, and end up talking for hours.

Sharon gradually extracts herself from William's life. He sees the momentum going out of their friendship, and he fights to try and regain it. He decides to use the only asset he has, and tells her that he loves her. It's a desperate, foolish manoeuver, with no chance of success. Sharon tells him that nothing will ever happen between them, and that they should put their friendship on hold until he gets over his infatuation with her.

She also tells him of our conversation.

He comes to my apartment. He steps in without speaking, sits on the couch staring at his hands in his lap. It's an awkward scene. I know why he is upset, he knows I know, and we both know that I shouldn't know.

"Why didn't you stay out of it? Why didn't you mind your own damn business?", he asks. I tell him I was trying to help him, the partial truth. He looks up at me, shakes his head, gets up and leaves without another word.

We still see each other at work. He no longer asks me for advice which is only as it should be given we are no longer friends. I wonder if he knows I am dating Sharon now. It turns out her level sensor is also broken, but in the opposite direction.