*The following post was written by my beautiful, smart, hilarious, insightful friend Candace.
The human brain reserves a certain kind of sadness for right after you have woken up from an impromptu evening nap. You know, the kind of nap you take right before bedtime that keeps you awake for the rest of the night and you end up on that weird part of YouTube at 2am watching someone pop the word’s biggest pimple for 34 minutes and 16 seconds.
That is where I find myself right now, wondering why I have yet to turn off the 54th consecutive Jenna Marbles video.
I’m not entirely sure why I always wake up sad from a nap. Naps are happy things. Regardless of the reason, here I am, all reflective and shit, pondering what “happy” really means, where I’m going with my life, where my relationship is headed, and what I’m going to eat at brunch tomorrow- you know, typical 2am-20-something-year-old-girl-postnap-mid-youtube-marathon stuff.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely opinionated person. I like to think that I know everything, and that I’m always right. I will admit though, today I saw a goose flying through the sky and learned that, contrary to popular belief (my previous belief), geese can indeed fly.
After the mind-blowing goose revelation, I found myself sitting outside a bar/restaurant in Fenway in the maybe 40 degree Boston “spring” weather (who’s idea was that?), with a large group of lively 20-something guys. Thirty sports jokes and three beers later I thought to myself, why can’t girls do this? Why can’t we just sit around and talk about literally nothing all night.
Boys’ night out: “Go Sox! Yeah, beer! Show me dem tittayyysss!”
Girls’ night out: “Omg you will not believe the text Kevin just sent me. He wants to go apple picking tomorrow. APPLE PICKING. Doesn’t he know that you don’t take a bitch apple picking unless you plan on proposing!? Fucking, apple picking canyoubelieveit?”
Shit, being a girl is exhausting.
I’ve noticed lately that I spend a lot of my time trying to work against the stereotypical girly attributes that are constantly being shoved in our faces. I don’t think there’s anything that makes me more angry than when I hear a guy describe a girl as “emotional,” “crazy,” or “clingy.” Except maybe when someone asks me, “Aren’t you cold!?” when I’m wearing something that shows even an inch of flesh. IF I WERE COLD I WOULD PUT ON A JACKET I AM A GROWN-ASS WOMAN.
Sorry, did I get too emotional there? It must be that time of the month.
Listen, I’m no feminist, but why should we (girls) be putting so much effort into seeming less girly? In this post-chivalrous, text messaging, casual-sex-having world we live in, who is really winning when we try to act like our male counterparts? I’m all for woman’s equality and women being able to do anything men can, but when it comes to dating these days, the joke is on us, ladies.
Why is it that girls should adopt the “toot it and boot it” mentality just to avoid being called clingy, or being accused of desperately looking for a relationship with the first guy that actually responds to her text messages.
Guess what boys, girls like sex too. And sometimes brunch the next day as well. Doesn’t mean I cut off a lock of your hair while you were asleep and am carrying it around in my back pocket Helga Pataki style. I mean maybe I did, but your hair smells really good, okay!? Brb while I put your name with 17 hearts next to it at the bottom of my AIM profile.
“Uh-oh man, she wants to get brunch tomorrow. We have a stage-five clinger on our hands.” Woah there bro, I proposed we eat some delicious eggs together, not get married. Let’s cool our jets for a sec.
But here’s the thing- guys know that girls like that shit! They know that if they take a girl out to dinner and then home for a screening of The Notebook afterward, that girl is giving it up before the end of the movie. Guaranteed. Who wouldn’t give it up for Ryan Gosling though? Really.
Then the guy, impressed by his sneaky maneuver, thinks to himself, “Yo next time I want to bone, Imma take this bitch apple picking. Bitches love apple picking. Or at least instagramming that they went apple picking. Fucking bitches man, right!?”
So three Notebook screenings, a day date, and some apple picking later, said man/boy gets the dreaded question: “So… like, what are we doing?”
“Bitch, I’m getting laid on the reg and doing fun shit with a hot chick every day, what are you doing!?”
“Oh, so we’re like, official?”
And she never heard from him again. True story. Well, sort of. At first we thought he was dead but he still posts on Facebook so, not dead.
Here’s what I have to say to this man-child. Grow some BALLS and tell the girl that you just wanted to bone and like, kind of enjoyed the apple picking too, but you really aren’t looking to settle down right now because basically every other girl out there these days is trying to act like she doesn’t care about girl stuff and will just bone and then pretend it never happened because GIRLS CAN DO GUY STUFF TOO THIS IS THE TWENTY FIRST CENTURY *inhales*. Wait, what?
Also, you took the bitch apple picking so what did you expect, really? You took her hand and you led her down relationship avenue to boyfriend lane. Why does this come as such a shock?
So ladies, how about we collectively, as the super awesome, magical, beautiful, majestic species that we are, decide that enough is enough. Don’t be afraid to be up front about what you want and don’t be willing to settle for any less. If a guy stops talking to you because you said something too serious, THANK HIM. Dear feminists, stop shitting on being a girl. I like when a guy opens the door and pays for my meal. Sometimes I just want to bone, and sometimes I want something a little more serious, but all of the time I want respect. Have respect for yourself and in turn, you will meet a guy that has respect for you as well. And isn’t afraid to have brunch with you because let’s face it, brunch is everything. I want all of the eggs. All of them.