Your best girlfriends are there for a reason. They’re there to do all the wonderful things that the men in your life too often fail at. They will always get excited to see you, to shop with you, to notice when you’ve dressed up or change your hair. They will commiserate with you and make you feel better about the situation:
“And then he ignored me the whole time…”
“Oh don’t worry. He’s just in love with you.”
“And then he said he didn’t want to ever speak to me again…”
“Ugh, he’s SO in love with you!”
“And then he called me a stalker and threatened to call the police..”
“OMG, why is he like, so obsessed with you?!?”
“And then I got a flat tire from hitting a pothole…”
“That’s cause pot holes LOVE you.”
And I would like to agree. It sounds like a lovely solution. So many bad things happen to me and so many people hate me because they just love me too darn much and don’t know how to deal with harboring these deep seated passions for me. I would love to say, “Okay! That sounds logical!” and then just go about my day comforted by the fact that everyone is secretly obsessed with me.
But I have this sneaking suspicion that maybe I didn’t get a C on the midterm because my 75 year old economics professor is secretly threatened by my beauty and intelligence.