Girls, Girls, Girls
Girls… Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em and can’t ignore ‘em… Now you know what it’s like to be a guy.
I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of trying to steal a friend’s girl. I did violate a somewhat similar trust in high school, however; I dated an ex-girlfriend of a good friend of mine. Their relationship was long over and I had every right, but in hindsight it was still the wrong move. Other than that, I’ve luckily managed to avoid the situation you ran into the other night. You say this was a friend of yours? Maybe that was your only mistake in this whole scenario.
Here’s the thing: Could this woman be any more insecure? You describe her as “perfect body hot,” yet she deludes herself into thinking you’re trying to steal her boyfriend. Can you imagine how insecure Ms. Blonde Bombshell must truly be? She is going through life with a nagging voice inside her head reminding her every day how worthless her life will be without a man. Can you imagine anything worse – or more common, I’m afraid? That’s the part I like about you most. You don’t live your life that way, and you never have. So, instead of being upset with her, maybe you should feel sorry for her. Except that she’s not just an insecure woman – she’s an insecure woman who has gone out of her way to make you look bad to a group of your friends. And knowing you as I do, that’s the part that bothers you most.
You hate gossip. And what sucks for you is that it’s something only women do. Sorry to break it to you, but in your quest to be “one of the girls,” this isn’t going to be the last time this happens.
But, what about the boyfriend? Knowing you as I do, I’m certain you weren’t flirting with him to get your jollies or to feed your ego or to “steal” him. However, I’m equally as certain that you were at least being flirtatious with him, because that’s who you are. It’s also known as being “clever,” “entertaining” and “enjoyable,” but only when we’re dealing with our own gender. When it comes to the opposite sex it becomes “flirtatious,” especially when you’re a woman who is at a function by herself. So what was he doing? Was he flirting back? Was he so bored with his daily dose of bombshell that a conversation with a live wire woman like you woke him up? Maybe her beef was with him, but she didn’t want to be the pain in the ass she truly is, for fear of pushing him away, so she got pissed off at you instead. Guys… We always get off the hook.
You have plenty of girlfriends, but you’re not “one of the girls.” You never have been and you never will be. “One of the girls,” doesn’t have season tickets to the ballpark. “One of the girls” doesn’t live by her own rules. “One of the girls,” doesn’t refuse to settle, even when it means another holiday season alone. Sorry, Charlie… You ain’t one of them.
Here’s the thing: A good woman should break down as 20% princess, 20% dude and 60% the individual woman she is meant to be. You may have sacrificed some of that princess percentage into the dude category. You might be 10/30/60. It’s not a problem for me and it shouldn’t be a problem for you…
But it might be a problem for “one of the girls.”
Leave a Reply
Girl Trouble
I’m about to say something I never thought I would say in my lifetime.
I have girl trouble.
Get your man threesome fantasy out of your head. It’s not about that. Believe me, right about now I actually wish it were. Nope, I have suddenly been catapulted back to high school, where the popular girls rule the school and gossip reigns supreme. I’m back in high school, yet I have crow’s feet and saggy boobs. What’s up with that?
It all started a month ago. It started innocently enough… I threw a bachelorette party. We’ve covered this already. I’m used to being one of the guys. I’ve got my few select girlfriends from childhood, but other than that, we’ve established many times that I’m not a girly-girl, and proud of that fact. But I actually enjoyed this group of girls, and kind of got sucked into the girliness of it all. We all started hanging out together, and I was suddenly part of, for lack of a better word, a clique. I was a girly-girl, with girly friends, and I liked it.
I thought I could handle it. These girls have strong personalities, but for the most part so do I. These girls do what they want, when they want it, but so do I. These girls could be tough bitches, but they were smart, and sassy, and a ton of fun – like me. For the first time in my life, I was a girl in a girly-girl clique. But then something happened… Something that has never happened to me – EVER. Something I could never have been prepared for, because in 39 years, the thought has never, not even once crossed my mind.
I was accused of being a man-stealer.
After the instant shock wore off, I had a very brief moment of prowess that someone could actually think I could steal her boyfriend. I’m never that girl. I’m the girl who everyone leaves their boyfriend with to “hang out,” because I’m “one of the guys.” Then I went back to being in shock. Then I got sad.
First of all, the accuser is hot. I mean, blonde bombshell, perfect-body hot. So for her even to think I could steal her boyfriend is laughable. But I’m still in shock, so I’m not laughing. Secondly, her boyfriend is a total ass. Truthfully I was only being nice because I knew everyone else hated him. I wasn’t flirtatious – I was friendly, but I guess there is an old adage somewhere that says a friendly woman is a flirt. I thought I was just being nice, because I try to be a nice person in this life. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, even if they’re an asshole. Those who know me know I’m a friendly person. They know I love to talk smack. I talk sports, I joke, I may even punch an arm. Aside from the girl parts, I’m basically your average guy. Except this time I was in a skin-tight dress and 5 inch heels, so I guess that’s where I got it wrong.
The damage was done. The dick boyfriend told my friend that I flirted with him, and “stepped over the line.” Stepped over the line? Last time I checked, I didn’t get on my knees between his legs. Last time I checked I never even sat next to the guy. So what do I do? Do I ignore all my friend’s boyfriends for fear that I might be too nice? Then I’m a bitch.
I’ve learned a lot being a girly-girl. I learned that I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. I learned that I need a bit of a thicker skin, and that the best intentions aren’t always the right intentions. I also learned one other very important thing – that I’m never going to be “one of the girls.”
