Newly single female seeks friendship with same-sex to ruin her self esteem, hit on her overweight and middle age husband, criticize her cooking and harp on her filthy baseboards. Must be willing to drive a drunk single friend home, often to the wrong house. Prepare to be made miserable. Let’s be friends!
I hope you’re not going to need this post and if you do, I hope I’m in time. This is a cautionary tale so heed my warnings and proceed with care for if you don’t, nothing really bad is going to happen. That is that didn’t occur In high school.
There once was a girl. You might have been friends. She has a sweet smile and is friendly and she is so fun. You like her and she likes you. Scratch all of that. None of it is true. Before you can say instant bestie, the refs have thrown the flag and the gloves are off. It’s a cat fight and you block her. What went wrong? No, this isn’t an episode of the Kardashian’s or the Jersey Shore reboot. This is a true story of why it’s hard for some women to form bonds with other women.
You can read more about the dynamics of the estrogen-fueled bullshit of female friendship in 10 types of female friends by Therese J. Borchard . I found this to be an informative yet slightly alarming . Why do we have to be so mean ?
Spoiler alert: I’m a doormat and should have read the above-linked article.
Let me start from the beginning. I ran into a girl that I hadn’t seen in years. We started talking and she was funny. We will call her Jill but of course that’s not her real name. So Jill is happy to see a familiar face since she just moved back she says she doesn’t have any girlfriends. Blah, blah, blah just like the Kesha song. She wanted to hang out, I thought it sounded like fun.
Another Spoiler Alert: This is the first clue in why you should run.
Fast, new BFF Jill is a man-hungry single woman who needs a man and there’s no reason that she has been dumped, cheated on and left heartbroken while I have it so good. And she says so. Loudly. Often. Repeat. Reiterate. Blah, blah, blah.
STFU and go home, Jill. You’re drunk.
My husband did not like her but I ignore that too because he acted as he did, and he sure didn’t stop her from constantly putting me down nor did he stop Jill’s constant caressing of his ego. Seriously, sometimes men make me want to vomit. Like I said, my husband didn’t like her but I am determined to show him that I am capable of picking my playmates.
One night I agree to dinner and a movie at her house. At Jill’s house, we have a few drinks and engage in small talk. I should say she talks. And talks. And keeps talking about everything I do wrong in my marriage and entire existence. Which is A LOT? In between the sob stories about her ex, she hits the list of a few things that she feels I need to improve on. She is not shy about her petty attitude about my horrible attempt at marriage and how she would do it differently. Ugh excuse me but hello crazy, I’m the one who’s still got a man, I don’t say this but I want to.
This is while her baby- daddy is in the game room with their kids, hiding from her crazy ass. Jill takes me to meet them. Not weird. At all. Obviously not an issue for anyone but me. I guess I didn’t get the memo that I wasn’t supposed to speak to him. Jill’s girls are sweet but obviously embarrassed by Jill who is drunk and then it gets even better when she blurts out “Amy, stop trying to hook up with my ex.” Whoa .” I make my exit, pretending to have appendicitis.
On the way home, I congratulate myself for being at peace with my many, many flaws. If I wasn’t, I’d have stuck my head in an oven at 475 for an hour while lamenting my husbands’ future misery with “Jill pickle. ”
Fun Fact: She hates that nickname but oh well, I hate being called “idget “or “shortcakes” so that is complaint is moot.
Jill waits a few days before blowing my phone up. I ignore her because I freakin want to and she clearly doesn’t take subtleties well. Instead, she says things like “tell your man to take US here or tell him that WE want to do this“. I am not going to do anything but laugh at her obviously deluded kind of logic. You tell your man, Jill. Oh, wait … too soon?
Jill’s behavior doesn’t get better but I ignore her flirting with my husband while in his presence. I thought she was just being friendly and of course maybe just drunk when she kept rubbing all over him while enumerating her multitude of womanly skills, and why she was the perfect wife. I doubt her candidacy was ever questioned in her mind because we never stopped talking about her perfect, clean house amazing culinary abilities and award-winning fellatio tricks. All while she stares condescendingly at me and makes no attempt to hide the fact that she is more deserving of my life than I am.
The next time proved that Jill had no clue and she is not trying to get one. She shows up at my door with no warning. Sooner than I can pretend I’m thrilled to see her, she’s hoisting a case of Corona into my still intact appendix and orders me to put it up. Jill doesn’t miss a beat, following me while shit -talking, about my ineptitude. Obviously, the red-haired demon Lilith is out with claws. My new life coach Jill is saying I’m a horrible housekeeper, needed cooking lessons, had a dog that was too fat and ridiculously spoiled because of me.
I consider calling one of my crazier friends to bang on my front door pretending to be my psycho sister in the midst of a family crisis. Why you ask ? Because I’m too nice to tell Jill she’s rude and I want her to leave .
Jill gets more critical of me as sooo as my man gets home – “my man” is her terminology and she loves to say it . She makes sure she repeats her criticism of my hideously dirty baseboards to advice on Spring cleaning and then her plans on coming over to give me cooking lessons . Please Jill , do tell me how to not suck at my job -which is only to make my man happy. Or, as she loudly ,he will find someone who will . Because Jill had dinner ready every night when her “man ” came home and then she asks my husband what he was going to cook in on his new grill . On and on until… you know, you know what’s next . Be real .
Yes , if you guessed ribeyes on the man grill are the lucky winner . It’s a steak dinner for the female bashing bff Jill .. Lucky bitch . ..Just kidding.
From every stupid comment out of her horse mouth she is smugly congratulating herself for being catered to . Catered to by a man . I am poised to kill her either now in the oven I have preheated . My man is just eating her bullshit up and then rolling his eyes .
Then it’s time for drinks too much Jill to go home and as we try to take my BFF to her casa but she takes us to the wrong house. I’m talking literally. Like she walks into the wrong house and the occupants are horrified. So am I . My husband is flipping out and cussing me in his head . I can tell . I haul her inebriated self back to the truck and she finally finds her real abode . Bye bye ,I say as I open the door while pushing her out . While the truck is still moving . Joking.
There are some other things I could add to this tale up with but I’ll spare you more Jill- induced drama and leave you sighing with relief that she isn’t going to your house. Needless to say , this was the end of our short but sweet frenemie reunion . I’m wiser and I feel better about myself and my cooking. Housekeeping is still a little mediocre but not the end of the world. I’m not trying to be Martha Stewart .
Here’s why I ignored Jill’s obnoxious and rude behavior at first : I wanted to like her , she had just gone through a difficult breakup, she was sad and needed a friend , she was in need of me .
I finally got rid of her rudely phrased criticism and her constant berating attitude towards me . How? By refusing to take it .
You’re right , I blocked her .
So there you have it .the moral of this story . If you see a woman without female friends then there might be a reason for it . It has never made sense to me that females are our own toughest critics . Instead of girl power existing in a united state, we instead bash our own sex when we should be praising each other and making the way easier for women . Not harder . Mean girls isn’t just a movie . Girls are meaner to other girls than any man ever was . We shouldn’t be . But now you know what it do if you ever find yourself in this kind of spot .