I have noticed that some Pretty Girls, when they notice another Pretty Girl has joined their group, well, they change their demeanor completely and it is instant and very physically obvious to anyone who cares to observe. They draw in their stomachs (whether they have one or not), throw back their shoulders (get those sisters out there, baby!) and assess the new Pretty Girl to see if she is a threat. The Pretty Girl gives the new chick a once over that would make that chick blush if a guy did it. I like to call these women the Pretty Bitchy Girls.
I don’t have any Pretty Bitchy Girls as friends. But I used to.
There was the PBG who, years ago when I was dating a guy who used to have the hots for her (and she rejected), found out I was seeing him and suddenly started showing up at parties, asking him to come bail her out of some trouble or take her some place when she knew he’d be on a date with me. Sucker almost always fell for it. Bigger Sucker (me) put up with that shit for a few months. Give me a break, I was 24.
Two years or so later, after I had married and divorced Psycho Boy, I was dating yet another guy who used to have the hots for her (didn’t know it when we first started seeing each other). PBG suddenly wanted to befriend me, and me being the trusting soul I used to be, I actually thought it was because she wanted to be friends. I found out later from that guy that she pulled that shit all the damned time (he and I became friends again years later, but she screwed up whatever was going on with him at that particular time). She even tried it with my live-in boyfriend the next year, and that was the last straw. Thank God he was honest and not the type to dilly dally on the side, and he let me know she kept coming to see him at the bar he DJ’d at, trying to tell him how I wasn’t good for him and how he needed a “new direction.” Meaning her.
I don’t know whatever happened to that particular PBG, but I’m pretty sure she never grew out of that shit. Some girls go through a PBG phase; some have it written in their DNA. P.S. She was grooming her daughter to be just like her, which I found rather sad and really pretty troubling.
Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.
Then there are the Pretty Bitchy Girls who get some sort of feeling of power by openly flirting with another girl’s guy right in front of them. That crap used to make me go green with jealousy but now I inwardly chuckle and go along with it just to fuck with them. For example, there is a cocktail waitress at this place the non-BF and I frequent (him more so than me), and she is always trying to say things to him when I am not looking, just to stop talking if I turn my head that way. “Mind games, bitch – I’ve been at this longer than you have, honey,” I want to say. But I just smile and call her “sweetie,” like I don’t give a shit. Because I don’t. However, I do find it rude that when we left the last time, she looked at the non-BF and said, “I don’t want you to goooooo” in a whiny voice. (I’m not being bitchy here – it was a whiny voice. One I could imitate well.)
For a couple of days afterward, I would tell him, “I don’t want you to goooooo” and laugh and laugh, until finally he asked me how long I was going to do that.
Me: As long as I want to.
The non-BF: I think you’ve done it enough.
Me: Oh, get over yourself, it’s funny.
Turn about is fair play. Five minutes later when I tried to get off the phone with him, he said, “I don’t want you to goooooo.” Touché.
P.S. You should see how he gets when some guy starts laying it on too heavy with me. I’ve seen him cross a crowded restaurant just to see if I needed help taking my one drink back to the table from the bar if a guy is too chatty. I don’t care how much a guy swears he isn’t jealous, as soon as another dog comes sniffing around, they’re circling you because no one else is going to get near their bitch!
Worse than the Pretty Bitchy Girl, though, is the friend who drops you (and every other girlfriend) when a guy comes into her life. Yes, it even happens at my age (which is pretty sad, because one would think a bitch would have learned by now).
I recently “lost” one to this “condition” and although it made me sad for me at first, now it makes me sadder for her. I am fine – I will always be okay, but I know too well the ramifications of keeping all your eggs in one relationship basket. Too bad, because she used to be fun and happy and full of life. I’m quite sure she got tired of me telling her how I really felt about the control freak she is with. So I guess it’s my fault she doesn’t come to call on me anymore. So be it. I’d rather speak my peace in the hopes it would make a difference than remain quiet about something I really believe in.
Then there are the girls you love to love. The Girls’ Girl, or The Boys’ Girl – they are pretty much one in the same. They can hang with the dudes and not get all prissy when someone suggests you all go for a hike. But they can also be completely Chicky and hang around the other women minus the competitive nature I wrote about above.
These girls are the ones you want by your side when you are having a crisis, when things aren’t going so well for you. But they are also exactly who needs to be there when things are going splendidly well. They are sad for your sadness and they are thrilled for your accomplishments and your good fortune.
These “bitches” aren’t bitches. They are soul mates. I’m lucky to have a handful I call my best friends. I love them.
Speaking of lads and ladies, guys and dolls, men and women…I got an Essie nail polish in this month’s Birchbox called “Lady Like.” No sooner than I painted the first coat, that shit tried to slide off my fingernails. They really should have sent something in a bitchy red and called it “I Ain’t Yo Ho” – it actually might have stayed on!
P.S. It looks like week-old Easter egg shells are stuck on the tips of my fingers.
P.P.S. This isn’t a fall color. Birchbox, you fail.