Your Heart

F*** “Girl Code”: I Can Hook Up With Your Ex-Boyfriend If I Want To

By December 27, 2015 1
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I am so sick— like literally projectile-vomiting-green-onto-the-ceiling-exorcism-status SICK, of what various woman are beginning to distort as the guidelines of our “girl code”.

You see what I had remembered it being was an ethical system of support meant to empower women and strengthen the relationships between them. I believe that may have been the initial intention behind the ambiguous code when it first surfaced, right?

But it seems that may be fast-becoming the vintage definition, because what this so-called “code” is being  reduced to—what it now carries with it— is an inclusion clause for the bat-shit crazy antics and excuses made by insecure women, placing unfair restrictions and expectations upon other women– with an added reverse psychological twist of “she’s not a girl’s girl”.

So fuck it then, I’m not a girl’s girl.

If a girl’s girl means that I have to watch the way I’m speaking your ex-(see:former) boyfriend, because you used to (see: don’t anymore) date him, and you and I are not (see: no bitch, we are not), friends, then yup, you caught me red-handed sister—I am just NOT a girl’s girl.

And I’m just so terrified of the repercussions here because just what will people think of me when they learn that I go around and sleep with single guys?

“Don’t be THAT girl.”

That’s the high class insult that’s making the rounds amongst the more pompous crowds of ladies.  Because they’re not going to fight you, they won’t throw a drink at you– they just want to pull you aside and offer you some friendly life advice that what you’re doing is low brow. After all, you’re beautiful. You’re so much better than being “That” girl. Nobody wants to be a that girl.

Do not try to misrepresent your insecurity with me, homechick. You can put toilet water in a glass decanter, and set it on a top shelf– it still wreaks. Attempting to repackage your blatant lack of confidence as an educational kumbaya will get you nowhere, very quickly with me. In fact, if you would like an express ticket to nowhere– try that elementary approach with me and I’ll see you to it.

I AM THE THAT-IEST THAT GIRL OF ALL. Seriously, can I trademark the term? Because I am THAT girl that is not going to be made to feel like some uncivilized whore, because I hooked up with someone that you are (here comes the zinger) NO LONGER DATING–remember?!

I don’t understand what level of respect you girls—and I am using the word “girls”,in lieu of women here— expect from me when I am not your friend. Just how exactly do you think the world operates outside of your own heads? Am I supposed to ask guy a who is hitting on me at a bar, and whom I find attractive whether or not he has an ex-girlfriend who I should be paying a grammy-style tribute to? Would you like an interpretive dance of your past fights? —A dramatic reading of your once-so-in-love text messages? Please respond in kind of just what exactly it is you are looking for from me, should I learn that I am conversing with your ex boyfriend.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIP. Not the beginning, not the end— and most CERTAINLY not the after-the-end portion, when your twisted little heart expects all of us other women to wear black and mourn the day you two parted ways.

Bank on this: If you are a non-friend of mine and you see me at a bar talking to your ex, I’m likely not paying my respects to your past relationship. Because I could not give less of a shit if I actually tried. In fact if I were put to task, I would literallyhave to sit in a 12 hour board meeting with my most trusted advisors to strategize on how I could possibly give less of shit than I do right now.

We’re talking zero fucks, dead on the inside—NO, I DO NOT CARE, so back that shit up all the way into someone else’s parking garage, sweetheart. This one is full.

I once hooked up with the ex boyfriend of a girl I went to high school with. Let me be clear: I was by no means friends with this girl, but guess what happened anyway when she found out? She lost her marbles. Actually “lost her marbles” sounds innocent and childlike—like a game of Mancala. This was more like a game of Jumanji, meaning she lost her entire stampede of elephants in my house and I had to roll a double six to save the world.

I remember I was at work– 20 years old at the time, and she sent me a string of text messages that read like I had just had sex with her husband on her late grandfather’s favorite armchair. And do you want to know how I responded to those text messages?

I didn’t. Because I literally do not know how to break the news to anyone that their ex-boyfriend is single. It’s difficult.

And for any of you people who are thinking “but there are plenty of other fish in the sea”, you are absolutely right!  Her boyfriend was one of them! He was SINGLE! Do you get it now?!  ARE YOU STARTING TO GET THIS NOW?! We were two of the much-storied “plenty” of other fish in the sea!

Oh and we all know how that story ended. She thought I was a terrible, awful human being, and got back together with him weeks later to prove a point because that’s just what these kinds of women do. But that right there is the OPPOSITE of girl code, homie. That’s using a blameless woman as a scapegoat to your own very-apparent misery.

The point of all of this is to serve as a could-be-friendlier reminder to you all that there is nothing proprietary about your former relationships, least of all between you and some random follow-up chick who owes you nothing. This seems to be a concept that men grasp fully–and that we may stand to benefit from mirroring.

So let’s agree to STOP the dirty looks, stop the sticky drink-tossing and most especially the usage of the hardly-pretentious  “that girl” label.

In a sentence: stop distorting the sacredness of the real “girl code” to mask your insecurities.