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Go girl games11/4/2023 ![]() (But who also kind of likes my bullshit.) And yet: Don’t land me in one of those relationships where we’re always pecking at each other, disguising insults as jokes, rolling our eyes and ‘playfully’ scrapping in front of our friends, hoping to lure them to our side of an argument they could not care less about. Give me a man with a little fight in him, a man who calls me on my bullshit. Your petty demands simply make him feel superior, or resentful, and someday he will fuck his pretty, young coworker who asks nothing of him, and you will actually be shocked. He’s doing what you tell him to do because he doesn’t care enough to argue, I think. No relationship is perfect, they say – they, who make do with dutiful sex and gassy bedtime rituals, who settle for TV as conversation, who believe that husbandly capitulation – yes, honey, okay, honey – is the same as concord. ![]() “The ones who are not soul-mated – the ones who have settled – are even more dismissive of my singleness: It’s not that hard to find someone to marry, they say. I would have done anything to feel real again.” It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters, because I'm not a real person and neither is anyone else. It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.Īnd if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don't have genuine souls. We are all working from the same dog-eared script. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. I don't know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can't anymore. I've literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I can't recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn't immediately reference to a movie or TV show. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. ![]() Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Not a whining, restless child's boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. Because “I like strong women” is code for “I hate strong women.”)” (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: “I like strong women.” If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. ![]() Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl. Cool Girls never get angry they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. “Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl.
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