Superiority (is) Complex: Awkward Boys And Being Mistaken For A Bitch


I’m not a bitch, I need to stress that. There’s a difference between being right and being rude, and it’s impossible to be rude when you’re right, because I’M RIGHT so shut up and accept it. I’m usually right, by the way, and this is where most people make that mistake. I am also a gracious loser, so I expect the same out of the people around me. That seems reasonable, to me anyway.

For example, the other day I’m out at a bar and this guy comes up and starts talking to me. It’s fine, whatever. He wasn’t terrible looking and I like talking to people, if they’re interesting. This guy, however, was too awkward for me to tell if he was actually worth talking to, but he could’ve have been. I just couldn’t tell. I’m not one to quickly dismiss a person, though I guess “quick” is sort of subjective, but there’s no point in debating that right now. The point is that I wasn’t immediately turned off. Instead, I told him, “Just so you know, you’re being really awkward.” Big fucking deal, right? I was being helpful! I wanted to keep talking to him; I just wanted him to be better at it. When you’re trying to say something funny and you start laughing halfway through the sentence, you sound like a pussy. It’s weird. You’re supposed to deliver that sort of thing straight faced, with an expression that says, “You’re gonna laugh at this, bitch, whether you think it’s funny or not.” AND I WOULD HAVE! Because that’s what girls do. We laugh at guys’ dumb jokes. We can’t do that, however, if their delivery is terrible and they’re making everything uncomfortable and awkward. I get him wanting to seem like a nice guy, but have some confidence!

“Girls only like douchebags” is a myth. I’ll fuck a nice guy, I’d rather fuck a nice guy, but I mean, at least act like a dick for a minute. Then, once I confuse that with confidence, the guy can reveal that he’s a decent human being, which will be a relief to me, because I’ll be thinking to myself, “Oh thank God, he isn’t a sexual predator, he’ll probably remember my name, and he won’t try to pull out and finish in my hair or something so he can brag about it to his friends.” Isn’t sex enough for you people!?!?

All the guy had to do was saying something, normally, and then I would have laughed. Then he could have bought me a drink, we could have kept talking, I would have kept laughing, and after like ten minutes, who really cares because it’s all crap after that. I’ve made up my mind by then and everything else is filler and free drinks. All he has to do is stay on cruise control and not do something outrageously weird or douchey.

Instead of thanking me for my helpful advice (I’m a team player, damn it!) he turned around and sulked back to his friends. His friends, by the way, weren’t very far away, and I heard him say, “Dude, that girl over there is such a bitch.” Then they all laughed and were like, “Ohhhh hahahah yeah probably look at her what a bitch she probably has teeth and sand in her vag totally bro total bitch!” Well they probably said that, I couldn’t actually hear them. I don’t really know, or care, how guys talk about me when they’re being dickheads anyway. They were laughing though, so it was implied.

I wasn’t in a particularly great mood after that, and for some dumb reason I became preoccupied with proving that I wasn’t this evil demon succubus with a hell mouth between my legs that the guy who thought I blew him off assumed I was. So I started talking to another guy. I convinced him pretty quickly to buy me a shot. “See douche bag, we’re having a drink! This could have been you! I AM NICE!” Things escalated quickly from there. I should have probably noted that I was already pretty smashed. Within a few minutes we were making out. Boom, I’m not that hard to impress and I’m open to meeting new people. Message sent. That was a pretty smug public make out sesh. Unfortunately, that guy’s girlfriend, WHICH I DIDN’T KNOW HE HAD, came up and she was pissed. She called him an asshole, me a slut, and then they broke up on the spot. It was pretty ugly too; I mean they were getting personal. She was all like, “You gave me chlamydia!” Then he was all like, “I told you I got that from a toilet seat!” By the way, that’s a terrible excuse. Just admit you fucked someone else. I’d rather date a cheater than a guy who errantly rubs his ween all over public restrooms. So anyway that whole thing backfired pretty hard. The first guy’s opinion of me was probably solidified after that, since he watched it all. I can’t blame him for that though, because it was pretty entertaining. I was under direct threat of that guy’s girlfriend taking off her heel and burying it in my temple and even I didn’t want to leave the scene.

Still, I wasn’t being a bitch, but whatever. I guess that happens to me a lot. If people mistake frankness and a flat delivery for bitchiness, that’s their problem. For example, exactly how sweet should I sound in the middle of an in class debate so that everyone doesn’t assume that I’m a thundering…that word? It’d be helpful to know because, 1) I totally care, and 2) I should definitely be the one making you feel comfortable, person who engaged and/or enraged me.

It’s all bullshit, really. They say the absence of good is evil, and maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean the absence of pleasantry is bitchiness. The absent of pleasantry is…normality. If pleasant were the standard then we’d live in a world where trees were candy canes and real bears would cuddle instead of maul. Sorry, this wine is taking me to weird places. I like to have a few glasses when I’m being pensive. Truthfully, at this point in my young life I’m only even capable of being pensive when I’m alone drinking wine. The rest of the time I’m not too concerned with myself, everyone else can deal with it, and that’s not bitchy.


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