{ 2005 01 05 }

Why girls are bitches

The first time I was screwed over by a girlfriend was in the third grade. One of the five girls in my class, Rachael, had a sleepover for her birthday and didn’t invite me. Her mother felt that the books I read were too mature for a third grader and that I was a bad influence on her daughter. I found out about the party the following Monday when none of the girls in my class would talk to me. A girl in the other third grade class told me that Rachel, who had previously been my friend, informed the other girls that I was too wild and I wasn’t ladylike enough to be invited to her sleepover. The girls in my class didn’t talk to me for weeks.

Sixth grade was another crap year. Because of my B-cup breasts and my tampon use, the mother of one of my classmates, Mrs. Bitch told her daughter that I was a slut. Because the girl’s dad was a famous baseball player, the girls agreed and stopped talking to me. Mrs. Bitch spread the word of my sluttiness to other parents. The other mothers decided that Mrs. Bitch must have first hand knowledge of my sluttiness and encouraged their kids to stay away from me. In the months of isolation that followed, I learned that I was the hot dog girl, the tuna fish girl and that I’d had an abortion in the fifth grade. After learning that I was a slut the boys in my grade began to harass me. They’d corner me and grab at my breasts and my ass.

The girls in my class wanted to help me, so they kindly wrote me a note telling me that I was slut and a bitch and that no one liked me. They wrote that I was dirty and that the boys only liked me for my boobs. The note was in my best friend’s handwriting. After a half-assed suicide attempt I switched schools for the remainder of the year. I ran into a group of my harassers at the movies later in the year. One of them held my arms while another cupped my breasts and whispered, “It’s too bad you left school. We miss these.”

In seventh grade, another girlfriend fucked me over. At my birthday party, thrown by my good friend Erica, my boyfriend dumped me. The following day I went to Florida to vist my Nanny for a week. When I returned, none of my friends would talk to me. Erica decided that since my boyfriend didn’t like me no one else should either. I don’t know what she told people, but it worked. I was crushed.

Other girls have hurt me in more subtle ways. Ann, who is still one of my close friends, stopped speaking to me for months, twice, without telling me what I had done to piss her off until after she decided to talk to me again. Those stretches of silence were devastating.

I’m now an adult, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, a good friend of mine from college isn’t speaking to me. I keep trying to think of what I might have done to offend her. She hasn’t returned any of my calls since she last visited Philadelphia, in June or July. She unexpectedly came to town with her ex-boyfriend. We hung out at a bar one night. The next day we had brunch then went to Boyfiend’s house for pizza. In the early evening they drove back to New York. No one fought, no harsh words were exchanged. I was happy to see her.

Since that day we’ve spoken on the phone twice. One time she was busy and said she’d call me back. Another time I believe I was the busy one. But now when I call her phone just rings and rings. I’ve left at least fifteen messages. For the first few weeks that she didn’t return my calls I assumed she was just busy and left messages like, “Hey, it’s Girlfiend. Call me when you get a chance.” When she still didn’t return my calls the messages became more specific. “Hey, it’s Girlfiend. It’s 6 o’clock on Tuesday. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Call when you can.” Still no reply.

After three months, with weekly messages telling her that I missed her, my messages became more pointed. “It’s Girlfiend. It’s five-thirty on Thursday and I really want to talk to you. I miss you and I’m concerned that you haven’t called. At first I assumed you were just busy, but now I’m wondering if something’s wrong. Please call me and let me know if you’re okay.” Nothing.

Until last night I was pretty sure that I’d done something to anger her. Now I’m positive. Knowing her screening habits I decided to hit *67 before dialing her number. She answered immediately. As soon as I spoke she said, “Oh. Hi. Let me call you back.” Of course she hasn’t.

What the fuck did I do? Girls are fucking bitches. Sometimes they’re in your face bitchy, with underhanded compliments like, “Oh, you look so much better with your haircut.” Other times it’s middle school bitchy like, “You’re friends with her? I heard her say that you’re fat and ugly.” Then there’s the talking shit about someone you don’t know on your website bitchy. I’ve found that the hardest kind of bitchy to deal with is the unexpected silent treatment bitchy. If I’ve done something that pissed you off at least let me know what it was so I won’t do it again.

Watching my cute little fifth graders turn into bitches kills me. Every time I hear gossip in my room I stop it immediately and have the girls tell me why I’ve stopped them. I try to explain how words are repeated and misconstrued and how those words turn into the writing on the bathroom walls that makes them come to class crying. It breaks my heart when Brandi shows me the ‘Brandi is a stupid slut’ scrawled across the stall door. I feel even worse when Dana comes to class telling me, “I was absent yesterday and now Brandi won’t talk to me and I don’t know what I did. Becca told me Brandi doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” These girls are so nasty to each other, so catty, so cruel.

I hope that when I have kids they’re boys.

Posted by girlfiend on Wednesday, January 5th, 2005, at 3:10 pm, and filed under odds and ends.

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