Date A Girl Who Like, Hates You


You should date a girl who insults the hell out of your ego, like at least twice a day.

Find her literally anywhere, she’ll be the one looking nonplussed by chatter, perched on a barstool. Or she’ll be the one eye-rolling in the elevator as two finance bros discuss the minutiae of their weekend as if it is exciting for everyone else to hear: the quantities of everything, how much they drank, smoke, regretted it, watched, ordered, lifted. A girl who insults you will be insulted by this dick-measuring, the constant quantification. She will have no patience for numbers. She will be like, “whatfuckingever,” almost always.

Find her somewhere public, minding her own business. Better yet, find her at that bar at her most effervescent, gesticulating wildly, and laughing sing-songy shrill at some shit her friend is saying — assume that this means they are laughing about you or someone like you. Assume that it is all about you. Feel comfortable interrupting, so long as you interject with something like, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but—”

You will not be sorry to interrupt and she will know this and she will not accept your apology. You will not appear offended, though, because you are perpetually amused. When you learn something new, you often say, “that’s wild” even though you know that nothing is really wild. You often call women like this girl feisty, but tonight will be different. You will walk away and circle around the bar and meet other people and wait until she’s in line for the bathroom, and then you will approach her, cornering her, and she will find this intriguing because she is bored.

Date the girl who will not put up with your shit, who is immune to the boyish charm that — combined with some tuition help from your parents and that winsome smile they bought you — got you this far.

Exchange numbers with her, text for two weeks. Try to make plans. Get angry when she re-schedules, re-schedule her out of spite. Cut off your nose to spite your strong jawline. Text her again. Finally meet her for drinks, laugh at her quips, defend yourself against her incisive critiques and little eye-rolls and petty humor. Want to kiss her, be surprised when she kisses you first, and feel personally victorious and all-responsible when she decides to sleep with you.

Wonder “why?” like, every time you guys argue. “Why even try?” you’ll ask yourself, eyes fixed on the some ass in yoga pants at Starbucks. Yoga pants ass is nice to the cashier. You overhear the lilting “thanks so much!” she chirps at the cashier and you think about how nice it would be to just be with someone easy instead of with that bitch you met at the bar six weeks ago, who seems to hate your fucking guts and for what? No reason? Because you try to take care of her, to be nice to her? Like for what reason? No goddamned sensible reason?

Breaking your trance-like focus on the yoga pants ass, to stare at the menu, think, “I should date a nice girl. Someone who gets it.”

Look back. Realize the ass is gone. Nice girls, man. Order your coffee and move along, back to that bit—

Correct yourself, knowing that if you ever call her a bitch out loud, she’ll like, go fucking crazy. Key your car or something.

“Crazy bitch.”

You should date a girl who makes you low-key hate yourself. A soft self-loathing, the kind that feels less like a sleepless depression and more like a downward glance and an involuntarily laugh-exhale after a botched social interaction. Like, an “smdh” kind of self-hatred. A cozy embarrassment, a “better luck next time” kind of love that leaves you fearing and forward-looking.

Date a girl who doesn’t talk about the future: when you say, “when do you want to hang out?” she’ll be all “I don’t care” and you will feel infuriated and incensed. Date a girl who responds to your 2AM “u up?” sporadically — why doesn’t she just let you know if she’s down or not. Like, so annoying. Like, can she make up her mind? Like —

She hates men, you’ll decide. That’s it. She doesn’t want to be loved, you’ll reason. Why would anyone ever act so unappreciative? So ungrateful? She should be lucky, you’ll think. Your mom would agree, you know. Your dad too. Whatever. Her loss.

Download Tinder. See a girl who looks nice. Wait for a response. Keep waiting. Swipe right. Swipe right. Swipe right.

For more or less, follow Crissy on Facebook

[protected-iframe id=”c078d1322442397cb368964c735cd94e-7369149-71954810″ info=”//” frameborder=”0″ style=”border:none; overflow:hidden; width:650px; height:258px;” scrolling=”no”]