Ladies, I come before you today to dispel a myth. A myth to which women everywhere have fallen victim since the beginning of time– or at least since men began cuffing bitches. A notion so ridiculously stupid that I’m amazed early feminists have not risen from their graves just to bitchslap this entire generation for being so goddamn annoying.
Saying “I have a boyfriend” to a guy who you suspect is hitting on you doesn’t make you a bitch.
Before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you a quick story:
This past spring break, I visited my pal in Texas to fuck shit up and eat a disgusting amount of breakfast burritos. On Friday, we started the night with a casual two-man pregame at her house, downing Jack and cokes and gabbing about what we’d been up to in the seven months since we’d seen each other. After we had established an adequate base drunk, we called an Uber and headed out to the bars. Almost immediately after hitting our second establishment, my tequila-soaked pal guilted her boyfriend into inspecting a swingset up at the bar. I decided to give them a moment of couple-y time, and set up shop to people watch on the deck.
That’s when I met Brad (name NOT changed to protect identity, I don’t give a fuck, dude’s a prick). Unfortunately, while I don’t consider myself a person with a type, Brad looked like someone a single me would be talking to at 11:30 on a Friday night. He was tall and tatted, drinking a dark lager, and sporting one of the most beautiful beards I’ve ever seen. He was absolutely perfect… for about three minutes.
Brad started the conversation on a polite note, asking where I was from, what I was drinking, and even making a point to say his mother had red hair just like mine. After a few minutes of small talk, he whipped out a perfectly innocent, “I think you’re so beautiful.” Harmless, right? He was behaving like a perfect gentleman right until the moment when he reached out and planted his hand firmly on my crotch.
At this point, I was beginning to realize Brad was not sticking around to make a platonic friend. I picked up his hand and relocated it from my personal space, politely telling him, “I should probably tell you, I have a boyfriend.”
Brad didn’t run away, or cuss me out, or dump his hipster beer all over my head. But the air had changed. He seemed offended, mad even, that I had the nerve to bring my significant other into the equation. His once friendly face twisted into an irritated expression as he told me, “I wasn’t even hitting on you.”
I evacuated the deck a short while after, because I don’t hang out with liars, and Brad’s a fucking liar. I wasn’t even hitting on you. He acted like I was so conceited to think that was hitting on me– because apparently aggressive public groping is something that normal friends routinely partake in. If that dude wasn’t flirting (or at least making a very barbaric attempt at doing so), I’d hate to see how he actually interacts with people he wants to sleep with. You don’t deathgrip people’s goodies out of kindness. You do it because you want to extend a personal invitation to pound town. Or you don’t do it at all, because you’re not a fucking moron.
And then he had the nerve to get pissy with me for telling him that I already have a guy in my life?
I’m not sure why, but I have it on good authority that saying “I have a boyfriend” to a guy will pisses him off nine times out of ten. He’ll immediately act ridiculously offended, as if it was really bold of you to infer that there’s a possibility he would want to sleep with you. I’ll just go ahead and say it: Of course there’s a possibility. People like to bang. Guys LOVE to bang. We know this. Putting the “not gonna happen” card on the table immediately isn’t a bitchy move. It’s energy efficient.
So why do guys hate it? Was Brad mad that I had the balls to call him out for hitting on me, or was he just mad because some other guy beat him to it?
I think it’s unfair for guys to make you feel like you’re completely full of yourself for such a simple exchange of information. I would never suggest that all guys fall into such a shitty category, but it’s ridiculous that so many men have such a negative reaction to the ongoing events in a stranger’s life. Would they rather us waste their time? Would they be more or less pissed if we kept this information to ourselves, letting them buy us rounds all night all while knowing we’re going to bail at closing time by ourselves with a fat wallet?
So next time a guy gives you shit for bringing up your boo thang, think to yourself, thank fucking God. Because if it weren’t for your beloved bae, you might be talking to a guy who acts like a little bitch every time he’s presented with an ounce of rejection. You don’t need that shit in your life. Ain’t nobody got time for a Brad..
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Lucky Jo
Lucky Jo is a former and current TSM writer who likes her men how she likes her coffee: way too hot and unforgivably bitter. She graduated from the University of Missouri in 2016, proving that C's do in fact get degrees. She now spends her days working for a social media marketing agency, hiking with her dachshund, and trying to bring back the scrunchie. Hate mail and goat memes can be sent to lucyjmulvihill@gmail.com.
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