Ugh there she is, you think, as you stand at the end of the beer pong table and take a sip of the lukewarm vodka Crystal Light you mixed up in your dorm room. You tuck a long lock of shiny, straightened-to-perfection hair behind your ear and observe her. She’s pretty — hot, even — but not in a total knockout kind of way. Her hair is obviously bleached blonde, but for some reason on her it doesn’t look high maintenance. She’s standing in a crowd of guys, in a crowd of your guys, and she’s telling a funny story. You can hear the deep bass of their throaty chuckles and you try to remember if you’ve ever made them laugh like that.
As the night goes on, your eye keeps being drawn to her. She’s anchoring in flip cup, and bringing in victory after victory. She’s taking over the DJ booth, being the perfect mix of dorky and hip, playing all of the classics and new bangers. When offered to do a keg stand, a shotgun, a beer funnel, she happily smiles and makes a clever remark before impressing everyone with her drinking ability. The laidback energy around her makes her stories seem effortless and her laugh infectious. The way she doesn’t seem to notice that everyone is drawn to her almost makes you overlook her tanned skin, her toned legs, and her casual, yet on point, outfit.
As the night goes on, and you’re both standing in line for the bathroom, it just so happens that you start talking. As you discuss your favorite television shows, how gross this frat house is, and what you’re studying, your crossed arms and stiff posture loosens up. You want to hate her, but no matter how hard you try you can’t because, dammit, she’s just so cool.
As you stumble away that night, you realize something. She was treated like a queen at that house. She was the one being offered shots and drinks and celebrity appearances in games. Guys were talking to her and girls were dancing with her and no matter where she went or what she did, she was having a hell of a time without even trying.
She was the definition of “The Cool Girl” and in the college word, she’s enemy #1.
There’s nothing more terrifying than a girl who’s almost a bro, but still totally girly, hanging out with your boys. Or any boys. Or just existing, for that matter. In the past years, we’ve loved her, hated her, and wanted to be her. We’d ask for a beer when we really wanted a vodka and we pretended to like “boy” shows when we really wanted to watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians. But then, somewhere along the way, someone decided that was dumb. “Guys should like us for who we are,” we shouted, as we turned to our guy du jour and discuss Kortney and Scott’s relationship, in detail. We convinced ourselves that it would be worse, in the long run, if we tried to be “cool” because once we let our true, monstrous selves show, the guy would high-tail it out of there.
We were right. Guys won’t stick around for a girl who’s being fake. But the truth is? There’s a reason we fear The Cool Girl.
Because The Cool Girl? She’s not trying. That’s the most infuriating part. She doesn’t force herself to drink beer, she actually likes it. And she’s not pretending to care about the goals (goals, right?) being scored during a football match. She genuinely cares that what’s-his-name got the ball all the way down to the basket. She knows how to talk to guys and she’s always the center of attention without even trying. In short, she’s the worst. And that, my friends, is why she’s still the coolest, baddest bitch at the party.
Because YES, a guy should like you for who you are (unless you really are a horrible. I don’t know you). But The Cool Girl? She’s just so much more likable. You can tell yourself that she’s a tryhard, and maybe she is, but chances are she’s just a tomboy who grew up, got some tits, learned to contour, and is now taking over the damn world. And the worst part is, these exist in nature. Worst than that? They exist in college.
We can hate her, and say she’s lame or fake all we want. But when she’s the one making the party, winning the laughs, and getting the guy, she’s sort of hard to ignore. I mean, “why should The Cool Girl get to stomp around like a giant, while the rest of us try not to get smushed under his big feet? What’s so great about The Cool Girl? Hm? We’re just as cute as The Cool Girl. We’re just as smart as The Cool Girl. People totally like us just as much as they like The Cool Girl. And when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of everybody, huh? Because that’s not what College is about. We should totally just *stab* The Cool Girl!**”
But we can’t. So we have three choices:
1. Cast her a side-eye at every event while standing in the corner, gossiping about the cellulite you think she has.
2. Be her friend?
3. Or consider trying to tone down your crazy and adapting a little chill.
No matter what you say or how hard you try to convince yourself that boys think you’re just as ~cool~, you can’t deny: the reason we hate The Cool Girl, the reason we fear her, is because at the end of it all, she still reigns above us. That bitch..
[Quote via Mean Girls]
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