Girls are jerks too

At a certain point in our dating lives we hit the Beyonce stage. This is the stage where we are goddesses, effortlessly better than anyone trying to vie for our attention. When All The Single Ladies plays we wave our ringless hands around so ferociously, as if trying to get the attention of the bar tender at a hot persons bar. To give you an idea of where we are at stages wise, it goes:

    1. 1. In love and happy
      2. In love and unhappy
      3. Not in love and unhappy
      4. Troll
      5. Single
      6. Drunk
      7. Hot Mess
      8. Clingy weird-o
      9. Tinder Goddess
      10. Beyonce
      11. Soul Mate
  • We do need to go through a Beyonce phase in order to find our soulmate. Beyonce is important as it reminds us to appreciate ourselves and love who we are. Everyone needs a healthy amount of self-love otherwise too much time is wasted dating soul destroying fuckwits. The downside of Beyonce is becoming a judgy arsehole who thinks no one is worth your time as you are a babing goddess. To achieve Beyonce status one must first be sought after by at least 75 men or women on Tinder.

    Tinder is simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen to dating. Let us take a minute to appreciate all the people who have found their soul mates and as well as those whom have brought me so many hilarious failure date stories that really do warm my heart. Now for the evil side, the scrutinising scroll through, where we treat men in the exact same manner that we as women have fought against and condemned for decades.

    "Omg, he’s wearing a bintang singlet. Gross, he’s probably one of those drunk Aussie traveller dickheads who go to Bali or Thailand all the time. No. Next!”
    “Why does he have a girl in every photo? Who is she? No. Next.”
    “He’s riding an elephant, so original. Next.”
    “He looks short. Next”
    “There are only photos from his shoulders up, do you think he’s pudgy?”
    “Ewww look at that fuck ugly tattoo.”
    “Awww that baby is so cute…. but is it his? Ahhhh i’ll just say no.”
    “He looks like a westy bogan. Probably has a southern cross tattoo too. NO!”
    “A mirror selfie, gross.”
    “Is he the hot dude or the not hot dude. No. Next”
    “Wow, muscles. Like a gross amount of muscles. No. Next”
    “Ahhhhhh a photo with a dog. Yes!”

    If the dude is lucky enough to make it through this interrogation round he may proceed to texting, but only Tinder message as hell no is he granted our number at this early stage of the game. The messages had better be interesting because there are at least 38 other boys we could be talking to. To merely start the conversation with ‘Hey’ pretty much super glues our legs closed, we’re already bored and have moved on. Once they have shown us they are attractive and have been deemed interesting enough via text message then they may pass go and collect $200. The date. The scrutinising continues as if we are 700% perfect.

    First off, we silently judge that they don’t look like the mirror image of their picture. Even though ours is a concoction of 4 filters and the colours have been so messed with that if you were to put the original next to its Instagrammed masterpiece, it would look like two different people 10 years apart in age. But who cares because we are glowing, carefree, goddesses, babes and everybody wants us. The letdown of them not being as hot as we imagined taints anything remotely interesting they may have to say. So as he sweats whilst eating Mexican you’re thinking to yourself there is no way you’d ever bang him because he’d probably get tired and sweat on you. Basically 10 seconds into the date we’ve already decided he’s boring and uninspiring. 30 seconds in we know there will not be a second date nor will there be sex of any kind, but perhaps you’ll swing him an after dinner kiss in an alley near the restaurant so you have some type of story to bring to coffee the next day as you look for your next potential date. But hey, you’ll wait out the date anyway because it’ll most likely be free, the food tastes good and it’s fun to have all the power knowing exactly how this night will end.

    Jerks. This culture makes people disposable and it makes us shallow. Roles reversed (they are often reversed) we’d be burning our bras, declaring celibacy and crafting the best Facebook event you’ve ever seen to warn all females of these horrid boys. I’m all about the solidarity of the sisterhood, but we should stop being jerks yeah? These games we play in dating and relationship land are not nearly as nasty as how women can be with each other. Let us start with the hilarious ones first, like when girls hate their boyfriend’s female friends and are really quite terrible at hiding it. In my experience if you don’t genuinely get along then it’ll go one of two ways:

    1. 1. Forced bestest friends, because if we’re friends you will never do anything with my boyfriend. High five for logic ladies.
      2. Actual hatred.
  • I love number 1. I really do, I find it hilarious. Because girls don’t realise how transparent they are. As they ask you to ‘get in a selfie with me babe’ you hug and smile so brightly your eyes start screaming, there is that little glint in her eye that shows she wants nothing more than to pour her glass of Moscato all over you. Because deep, deep down in her soul, in the place that she never goes to and will never say out loud, she does not trust you. This really translates to she does not trust her partner but women have this beautiful ability to channel their own insecurities into finding fault in other women. If you find yourself questioning the ‘female friend’ question the relationship or your own personal baggage first, you’ll find your answer there.

    The actual hatred ones are harmless because it’s all on the surface. Slowly but surely they capture their man and train him to be a house cat and you never see him anymore and kind of forget that he ever existed. Until their eventual break up and he comes back to the group with his tail between his legs. Of course they will break up as that type of controlling behaviour within a relationship has an expiration date. What seems like irrational behaviour is really just someone who has not learnt to acknowledge or communicate their own insecurities.

    You don’t need to worry about the girls who are spiteful on the surface it’s the ones that go deep and burrow in that are dangerous. It can be weeks, months or even years before you realise they are toxic and need to be removed.

    All of these behaviours and the whirlwind of female emotion is the reason that lots of girls choose to hang out with their male mates instead. It’s just not so damn manipulative and cryptic. They are crafty, the old female species they have spells for spinning this negatively too. This is because your chilled out friendships are a threat to the control they love to have over you. As you hang out with the boys, drink beer, drive a manual car and say cunt instead of ‘the c word’ this apparently means you are ‘friend zoned’ to all the males and must cease all fun immediately. I personally resent this term. I’ve been accused of ‘friend zoning’ potential princes many times and it confuses me as to what my behaviour is supposed to be. Do I to change my personality and interests when talking to those that harbour a penis because I have a vagina? Does the fact that I’m chatty and drink beer mean that I am now void of sexual attraction? If so, this should be an immediate PSA to Australia, surely it would help our cultures alcohol consumption woes. This just in: Talking and drinking beer makes you unattractive. Perhaps we could open up the bars past 7pm now?

    A common manipulation tactic of the host-parasite, female friendship is the undercurrent of subtle putdowns. They’ll display a certain level of discomfort, if you start dating someone, meet new friends or if a male shows interest in you and not them. Or the holy grail of female passive aggression, you need ‘help’ to get ready for a date or a night out. The girl who owns the GHD comes over to help you do your hair and paint your face and pick the clothes you will wear as she knows best. Let me be clear, this is often done from a place of honesty and love but can also be from a place of condescending control. You become the subject of someones make-over project, and you’ll go along with it as it feels like female fun although you ignore that tiny part of you that feels a bit deflated inside. It wasn’t till I got older that I realised how offensive it is.

    • - Is it completely foreign that someone might choose to on purpose dress the way they do or do their hair and make up in a certain way. If this is not up to the standard of someone else, this does not warrant them to change it.
      - Or the most obvious and the thing I would say to my nieces, nephews, hypothetical non-existent children of either gender and really anyone from the of ages 0-100 that may need the reminder: You do not need to dress a certain way or look a certain way for someone to like you. Be you. When you’re you, the people who are meant to be your people will gravitate to you. That’s how the universe works.
  • Other people’s insecurities can be so manipulative and dangerous, we can lose who we are whilst striving to please these controllers. Never biting back or saying anything because you don’t want to have conflict or upset anyone often at the expense of your own wants, needs and feelings. This is something that has taken me 25 years to realise. You do not have to please everyone and not everyone is going to like you. To strive for either of these two things is unattainable and damaging. You can forget what it is to have your own opinions and interests when you mould them to be what you think other people want to hear.

    It took me a long time to realise that I wasn’t my cleavage, my makeup, a night club, a one night stand person. I am the small pub, coffee dates, a relationship, a ‘wear bright colours so no one looks at my face’ person. That is my honest self and for the right people, it is enough.