The Man and The Ugly Last Resort

During a conversation with a male friend, about the level of idiocy and shallowness that currently goes around us:

“It is vexing and I am so gutted to say this out loud, but for those guys, you girls count way less than the Prom Queen of this group. And that’s… that’s so incredibly stupid, because the five of you are the ones that are worth it”.

“These kind of guys are about quantity, not quality. To their eyes, as much as girls like us are ugly, unworthy and a measure of last resort, you still hang out with five of us, and that makes you The Man. (…) No matter what, at the end of the day, for them we’re still walking vaginas. In their mind, girls like us will still be good for a fuck if they fail to go home with the Prom Queens of this world”.

I am in a very happy relationship with my boyfriend, whom I love and who loves me back. I am old enough to have had my share of jackasses and know which kind of guys – and people in general – are worth it and which ones aren’t. I certainly don’t need the approval or anything whatsoever of people with twisted, childish worldviews. The idea of people who see others as a piece of meat disgusts me. I keep the people that are worth keeping, the true friends – and ignore the rest. I like the way I look right now (minus that couple of kgs I’m always trying to lose), and I believe I have grown into a woman who has her own particular beauty.

My friend was gutted when he said that sentence out loud, because it couldn’t be further from what he believes and thinks and values. I told him it was fine because I didn’t care about those people and their opinions. But for a moment, all those horrible memories from my teenage years flashed before my eyes.

“Have you seen how tacky she looks?” – first day of high school, in this public yet astonishingly elitist and preppy school. I was wearing jeans, a Hard Rock t-shirt and red and white Adidas sneakers. Normal as normal could be.

“Your voice sounds like a man’s voice.”

“Your taste is so horrible. What a nerdy loser”.

“Look at your teeth, you monster!”.

“Your hairstyle is so not posh and stylish. Let us fix it. Why are you crying? Such a stupid loser…ahahahahah”.

“Shut up, you bitch. Go hide with your homo friend who wears mascara and shows his pubes online! I’ll break your fucking face!” – in the middle of an 11h grade Maths class, while the teacher was still inside the room, because I was friends with the only openly gay guy in the whole school.

“Why aren’t you more like your friends? They’re beautiful and nicer to us”.

“Geez, that one would still be horrible if you’d put a bag on her head…”

“You only have good grades because your cousin’s class has tests before us and she tells you all the questions!” – half of my class, after a test in which I got a 19/20 and half of them failed. I never needed to ask a single thing to my cousin. Ever.

“Looking like this you will never get any boys. Look at your hair, your body, your face with no make-up at all!”

There we were, with deadlocked eyes during a serious, meaningful and earnest conversation. Two promising and hopefully successful grown-ups who, despite their maturity, are still regarded in the eyes of other (idiot, shallow and childish) people as The Man and The Ugly Last Resort. Never mind friendship, like-mindedness and trust, the ultimate reasons for my friend to hang out with me and the other 4 girls we were talking about. Never mind personality, humour, respect, kindness and intelligence, the reason why human beings should be attracted to and value in one another.

I’m 25 and it’s still sad to realise you never really leave high school.

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People who should be banned from public laundromats

– People who can’t do their laundry without shouting at their friend/significant other during the whole freaking process.

– People who let their kid play with the token machine (pushing buttons and jamming the bill slot with a voucher paper) despite it being fixed literally 10 mins before by the maintenance personnel.

– People who decide to berate you and interfere in the way you do your laundry, as if you also didn’t have to wait for other people to be done before you.

Saturday afternoons at the local laundromat really make me yearn for the day we can get our own washing machine at our place…