To our credit though, our bitching isn't really bitching: it's cataloguing. Our discussion is based on a particular type of girl, and she crops up in everyone's life in a myriad of different ways. She's not a bitch in the traditional sense: she doesn't necessarily try to score your boyfriend, endanger you professionally or borrow your shoes and stretch the shit out of them. She doesn't even get drunk and call you a skank. All of that is forgivable. This girl is toxic in a different kind of way, and I guarantee you've come across her. This is an open letter to "that girl", everywhere.
The likelihood of you being friends with someone should not depend on their gender.
Girls who don't like girls. We've all met them. The interesting thing about these girls is they tend to be very thinly veiled girly-girls masquerading as some kind of 21st century tomboy. They wear mascara, but not foundation. They have a Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas poster. They pretend to laugh at Amy Winehouse jokes. But most of all, they proudly proclaim that they don't "get along" with girls. "All my friends are boys", they proclaim smugly.
Look sweetie. I appreciate that you have a lot of friends who are boys. In this female empowering world where one can buy a Nutri-Grain bar and the morning-after pill in the same shop, I think it's safe to say that having dude friends is pretty standard. But let me clear something up: If you can't manage to get along with half the world's population, you're doing something wrong. I don't know what it is, but you're doing it wrong.
My inclination to hang out with you is in direct proportion to how many photographs exist of you hanging out by yourself.
I can't tell you the amount of times I've declined a girl on facebook because I noticed how many pictures she had on her profile of her, hanging out, alone. One photograph is experimentation: two is creativity. Six is madness. An entire album is beyond redemption. There's generally some soft lighting, some eyeliner and a caption reading "So bored!!!!! So I took some photographs of myself."
Dude, read something.
Ironic signs about what a bitch you are doesn't convince me that you're not a bitch.
Do not include me in your Relationship Theatre.
I'm friends with quite a few couples, all of whom I love dearly. Some of them have been together for years, and I look at them in quietly concealed awe, wishing I had the maturity to stick it out with someone to the same extent. And then there are other couples.
These people either exist on my social or Facebook outer circle, and seem to be intent on proving to the world how legitimate they are as a couple. Public declarations of love and/or giggling, puppyish hate. "Lucas you are such an asshole!!! DONT EVEN KNOW WHY I PUT UP WITH IT!!XX"
This is bad in an online context, but far worse in a social capacity.My friend Tash coined the term 'Relationship Theatre' when her housemates would refer to eachother loudly as "boy" and "girl" (as in "Change the channel, BOY." "No you do it, GIRL.") and encourage others to do likewise.
It's cool, don't ask me how my day was.
I know I listened to you talk about your boyfriend's lower back sprain for sixteen minutes, but it's fine, nothing interesting happened to me today anyway.
Your interest in vintage clothing does not give you a 'vintage' personality.
A trick boring people have come up with to disguise their utter dullness is to adopt vintage culture in a big way. You hear vintage and you think Biba, Mary Quant and Pucci. You shop vintage and you get moth-eaten polka-dot for forty quid.
I'm not condemning all vintage-wearers here: I know a lot of people who are interested in vintage clothing, and fare extremely well with hunting down good pieces at great prices. But far too many people I meet seem to think that paying far too much money for an average dress makes you a more interesting person. Fondling their hemline preciously, they'll generally make a lisping speech about who their style inspiration of the day is.
HINT: it's generally Audrey Hepburn.
If you come to me with a problem, I will listen to it. If that problem is "I think all my male friends fancy me", then I will tell you to go fuck yourself.
Fairly self-explanatory, really.