A Letter To Attention Whores

Attention Whores

Dear Attention Whores,

Quick question: why are you the worst? Look, I try to like you, I really do. At least once a month I put in a valiant effort. Life would be all around more convenient if I could learn to tolerate you, because so many of you exist. I’m totally open to this, but we have to work together. Here are some things you could work on to make the process a little bit easier.

Why do you need so much attention all the time? I don’t know if it’s an issue with daddy or an issue with you, but it gets old. It’s worse when anyone of the penis-having population is around. You contain yourself when it’s just your sisters, but the second we hit an exchange you’re out of control. I know you think your dance moves are sexy, but you look like a forty-year-old woman attempting Zumba. It’s not a pretty sight, and the only reason people are looking is to laugh, not because they’re undeniably aroused by the sight of you flailing around like a dying bird.

People can see you, you know. They can hear you too, so keep the screaming to a minimum when anyone of the male persuasion so much as walks by. You don’t need to alert everyone within a mile radius, because others aren’t as overwhelmed by them as you. By the way, these boys don’t actually like you, they like the attention and ass you provide, even if you do “just make out” (but spoiler alert: you don’t).

While we’re on the topic of potential suitors, if a boy looks in someone else’s direction, it’s okay, especially if you don’t have any kind of dibs. Hard to believe, but other girls can get attention and the world won’t stop spinning. Also, forbidden fruit is not that tasty, so there is no reason to vie for the attention of someone else’s boy. It’s exhausting, and way less than sisterly. You smell like liquor and bad decisions and you reek of desperation.

We get that you party. In college something would be wrong if you weren’t going hard. While we enjoy a good time, when we have particularly regrettable night we keep it on the DL. We’ve all had nights when we hit the vat too hard, and the shots too hard, and the floor too hard, but when it’s every single night, it’s not cute. No one likes to drag your passed out body home. Your dead weight is kind of a buzz kill. Yes, the pictures are funny, but we’d never post them, because they’re not exactly slideshow material. Get it together, girlfriend. Rehab does not look half as fun as college.

Once you learn to keep a secret, let me know. I love gossip, but there’s a difference between healthy curiosity and malicious rumor spreading, and you’re not toeing the line, you’re drunkenly collapsing over it. Unlike you, most people want to keep their private lives private, so stop broadcasting rumors all over town. It’s hard when you don’t have your own secrets, but what happens in the house is supposed to stay there, so pipe down about what went down at formal.

Honestly, I think you could learn to be a person if you just calmed down at least two hundred percent. You’re not actively trying to be awful, you’re just a hot mess, and desperate doesn’t look good on anybody. So, look at your life, look at your choices, and get back to me when you’re ready for a change, because I’m here to help.


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Fleur de Lilly

Fleur de Lilly (@margaretabrams) is a contributing writer for Total Sorority Move and Post Grad Problems. When she's not corrupting her big's baby, she can be found decoding texts, gravitating towards raised surfaces, and spending time with her gentleman caller, Jack Daniels. She loves Lilly, Louisiana, and her lineage.

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