Sometimes no matter how hard you try to make a relationship
work, no matter how many kinky lingerie sets you buy or romantic vacations you
go on, you’re unsuccessful. There are some situations that don’t work out, no
matter how much effort you put into them.
Some people, they get sad when this happens. They fall into
a state of depression that involves expensive retail therapy and countless
bottles of triple distilled Irish whiskey. (Or some of that strawberry Kentucky
Moonshine. That stuff is deliciously potent.) They lay around and watch movies
like The Last of the Mohicans, Catch and Release, and other romantic bullshit
because the only way they can feel true love is by living vicariously through
Madeleine Stowe when Daniel Day Lewis romances her under a misty waterfall.
But some people do it a bit differently. Some people get
even by jumping ship and getting over it. They distance themselves from
whatever proverbial feelings they might have once had and move on this sexy,
aloof creature, devoid of any remnant feelings of their stupid ex-boyfriend.
These people are women who act like men. Vague, uncaring, possibly insolent men
with Lauren Conrad beach waves and a wardrobe equivalent to that of Nicole
Polizzi’s,
Sexy, aloof bitches. Bitches that don’t care about their
relationship status because they’re over it. They’ve moved far past the hurt
feelings and used them as fuel for their aloof fire. They don’t need any man
other than Michael Kors. It’s seriously like an art.
Oh, I know that she’s
disgusted cause she’s feeling abused. She gets tired of the lust but it’s so
hard to refuse. –Elvis Costello
I once knew this girl who was in this semi serious
relationship with this crazy, controlling man child. (… more like overgrown
mama’s boy in dire need of an attitude adjustment but potato, potato.) It took
awhile but at some point, she grew tired of his dramatics and overbearing, over
entitled attitude. No one was as hard working or handsome. No one was clearly
as classy or focused, and obviously, she would never find anyone as amazing as
him. (Those were very obviously his
deluded words.)
But that was something she was banking on. Because that man
(a term I’m going to go ahead and use very loosely…) was a giant pain in her
ass.
So instead of drinking alone on her couch (which honestly
isn’t too terrible of a gig, if you ask me) she got dressed, sprayed on some
Burberry and sat at the bar for a few minutes until some handsome proverbial
man walked over in hopes to buy her a drink. It didn’t take long for her to
realize that she didn’t need anyone, that she was comfortable with being alone,
comfortable with her own company. It didn’t take long for her to realize that
her ex was a tool and probably a legitimate pathological liar.
All those times that he had claimed she would never find a
“man like him” seemed almost laughable in retrospect, given all the men that
suddenly came crawling out of the woodwork now that she was no longer their
forbidden fruit. And it only took one night of shameless flirting with an out
of his element Marine to get her confidence back. It only took a few fruity
martinis for her to realize that not every guy was an untalented version of Ike
Turner. And although she just wanted to play the field, like the average
stereotypical Don Draper-esque male, there was no rule that said she couldn’t
enjoy the fruits of her labor. Because really, what’s better than free drinks
and a decent conversation saturated by a Boston accent? (I mean, have you seen Wahlburgers? I can’t even deal. I’m
too busy dying of cuteness.)
But she took it a step farther. She was vague and distant
with her suitors, giving them just enough attention to keep them mildly
attentive to her needs. She didn’t open up to them too much (because really,
who has the time?) but she listened to them talk about themselves. (One of
them, as it happens, was really, really over confident. And honestly, for no
apparent reason.) She got what she wanted, or maybe needed, from them and then
she moved on because as earlier stated, who has the time?
Essentially, she had figured out how to act like a man. A
brilliant, classy, well-dressed man with impeccable dental hygiene habits.
No, I’m not bitter,
I’m not hateful, and I’m not unforgiving. I just don’t like you. –C. Joybell C.
I used to have this friend (and I say the words “used to”
because we aren’t really friends anymore but listen, that’s not really the
point.) who was, I swear to Christ, one of the most clingy girls I have ever
met. She was constantly nagging her handsome boyfriend to marry her (but let’s
be real: he was no fool), which honestly, I warned her wasn’t going to work but
what do I know, right?
Anyway, it didn’t take long for them to part ways, for
whatever reason (… my money’s on the aforementioned clingy/whiny/generally
goddamn annoying disposition but that’s just me…) and now her Instagram is all
duplicate selfies with “Sorry, not sorry” hashtags. Like, I get it: You’re
single and clearly, blatantly on the prowl. Because seriously, who is that in
love with themselves that the only pictures they take besides “selfies” are
pictures of Round Up Fuzzy Navels? (And please, don’t even make me go there.
What a waste of ice. Why don’t you just drink yourself some warm milk? I mean,
Jesus Christ.)
But despite how obviously fake that bitch is, aside from the
fact that she clearly annoys the actual shit out of me, ex homegirl’s got
herself a pretty relevant point. For once in her stupid life. (I’m going to be
honest here: I probably have some unresolved issues with her but that’s neither
here nor there…)
She figured out how to act like a man. She figured out how
to be aloof, if only by appearance.
And while in actuality, she’s probably sitting at home
listening to Brantley Gilbert songs while she tries out different Instagram
filters on her goddamn selfies, she looks outwardly confident, happy and not in
need of anyone else. She appears on top of the action, single and loving it,
with men bending over backward for her. Pretty good marketing.
Moral of the Crazy: I’m not saying it’s okay to use people
or seduce them into doing whatever it is that you want. But I like the idea of
valuing yourself, of holding yourself to a higher standard and not just being
with someone to alleviate the loneliness. Because being lonely is terrible but
there are worse things. Like not knowing how to properly manicure your eyebrows
or being seriously involved with the wrong person. And perfecting the “acting
like a man” illusion can especially come in handy. It helps to weed out the
worthless ones.
So stay confident. Because the only girl who poses a threat
is the girl you were before. Your only competition is the girl you were
yesterday. And there isn’t a man on this earth who is worthy enough to push you
around. However, there are some men who would give anything just to talk to
you.
So put on your favorite pumps and go get ‘em.
The fiercest anger of
all, the most incurable, is that which rages in the place of dearest love.
–Euripides
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