I just sent a message to a girl. A Facebook message. No, I’m not trying to get with her. And no, I’m not trying to pedal some weight loss supplement or dumb beauty pyramid scheme. I’m not friends with her and I don’t want to be friends with her. I’ve never had more than, say, two conversations with her in my life and the times I’ve seen her in public I’ve been nothing but polite to her (except once when I was drunk. Not entirely sure what I said to her then). But the reason I sent her a message? It’s because I hate her. She hooked up with my boyfriend. No. It wasn’t when we were together. And no, it didn’t have anything to do with me. But the thought of it, of her, makes my skin absolutely crawl.
So what prompted me to DM her? She must have contacted him, right? Or maybe she tweeted something passive aggressive about me? She Snapchatted him. That has to be it! What was it that made me send a 300-word novel to her via FACEBOOK MESSENGER (you know, like we did in tenth grade)? A message that, for all intents and purposes, seemed kind. Everything I said it in seemed to be coming from a good place. I told her that something I read made me think of her (lies). I confessed to having bad feelings towards her (I’m sure she knew). And I apologized for ever being rude or thinking bad about her (spoiler: I’m not actually sorry).
So why? Why did I send this message full of lies to a girl I haven’t seen in over a year? There was one reason and one reason only: I. Love. Drama.
I fucking love it. Ever since I was in high school when I had my first taste of it, I was hooked. Everyone wanting to know your business. The rush you would get out of saying something bitchy or clever. The endorphins that would flow through you when things got riled up. When you riled things up. You’d flirt with a boy, even though you didn’t like him. You’d gossip about a girl because she liked the same guy as you. You’d have enemies, God, how you had enemies. You were a horrible fucking person, but you did it all for the rush. You did it all for the drama.
Most of us, however, outgrew it. We stopped saying snotty things in the hallways and we stopped making our statuses (#tbt) about “that ONE girl who thinks she can TALK TO MY BOYFRIEND.” We grew up and grew out of our drama-loving ways. Right?
HA! Ready for the kicker? I am here to call total complete utter bullshit.
When I sent this message to this girl, I was prompted by nothing other than her Instagram. No, I don’t follow her. Fuck no. But what I do do is check it every day. Maybe multiple times a day if I’m bored. Sure, I know all the tricks (use your computer so you don’t accidentally double-click, never look when you’re drunk) and I’m always careful to clear my history and make sure my boyfriend doesn’t see me do it. But there’s something about typing in her username, seeing if she posted anything new, and digging into her past over and over again that give me a high nothing can compete with.
So on this boring Friday morning, after typing her name into Instagram, I had an idea. I needed a rush. I needed something. What if I send her a message? I thought as I was already finding her name on Facebook. And just say, I’m sorry. Sure I don’t mean it. But I wanted to remind her that I existed. I wanted to tell her that I hated her, without seeming like a total bitch. I wanted, for lack of a better explanation, to start some drama.
And it worked. She responded, something nice and cliché, and I went about my day with an endorphin, drama-induced high. Let me guess, you think I’m crazy? It’s fine. I get it. You might be right. But want to know something else?
You love the drama. Just as much as me.
Maybe you don’t message people you hate anymore (but let me tell you, you’re totally missing out), but that doesn’t mean your drama days are over. The way you throw a screenshot of the girl you despise in your group text, saying horrible shit about her (because yes, her hair is totally ratchet). The way you stalk your boyfriend’s exes (or your exes’ new girlfriends) and make sure you have a better followers-to-likes ratio. How you’ll go to a bar if you know the guy who blew you off is going to be there, and the way you’ll flirt with his friend, just to make him jealous. The shows you watch and the brunch conversations you have. The Snapchats you send to your ex, even though you know he’s seeing someone new, and the way you put everything off until the last minute, arrive late, and wonder if you’ll ever get your life together, even though you could have just, you know, got your shit done on time.
But no. Because you, my in denial friend, love drama.
So what does it all come down to? Basically, you have two choices. You can turn a new leaf and become a better person. Stop watching smutty television and stop talking shit about that girl you hate who always hangs around your favorite fraternity house. Maybe in all the spare time you’ll have since you’ll no longer be stalking your ex at bars and digging into people’s social media you can do something good. Like volunteer work, or join a convent.
Or, if that doesn’t sound good to you, you have another choice. You can keep living life how you’ve been living it and secretly know that you, like me, fucking love drama. And if you do, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Except not really, because I love drama, just as much as you do..