If things don't work out between us, I won't feel compelled to slash your tires and set your house on fire.
I also don't want to post cute Instas of the two of us sipping pumpkin spice lattes and caption it "sunBAE." I'm not batsh*t crazy, but I'm also not totally basic. Honestly, I’m probably a little bit of both. I'm somewhere in the middle.
And I know there are a lot of other girls like me.
There's no "normal girl" stereotype. Think about it. When was the last time you heard about the guy who was "super into normal chickens"? Never. You've never heard about that guy.
So, yeah, stereotypes are bad. But I’m all about equality here, and it’s not fair that the majority of girls don't fall into your categories of personhood.
Here’s what it feels like to fall somewhere between "crazy" and "basic." In other words, here’s what it feels like to be a normal, rational human girl.
You don’t fall too hard or too fast.
And it's not because you’re so guarded and so damaged. It’s just because you’re a rational human being who isn’t going to hand over her heart to a virtual stranger.
You’re so chill that you freeze him out.
You’re so laid-back that he has to wonder whether or not you’re even actually into him at all.
You don’t have aggressive feelings — period.
You obviously get angry. But so angry that you set your cheating boyfriend’s d*ck on fire? These are not feelings you understand.
You’re not the first girl a guy notices at the bar.
You don’t demand attention, so you don’t get it immediately. You’re not the one making flirty eyes at him while sipping on a cute cocktail in the corner, and you’re not sloppily dancing on the table and screaming for him to get in your pants "right now!"
You’re the one he'll talk to all night long when he realizes he can't get near the "crazy" girls for more than 30 seconds.
You’re not boring, but you’re not driving him crazy.
You’re down for whatever, and you’re one of the few girls who can actually make him laugh out loud. You are by no means boring. But you don't spike his adrenaline by breaking into his apartment at four in the morning.
You’re constantly friend-zoned.
You’re not the girl guys vent about; you’re the girl guys vent to. Oh, and you’ve got marriage pacts for days ("if we're both single at 30...").
You’re the Meg Ryan of every rom-com.
You're the When Harry Met Sally Meg. You're the one who watched the love of her life get married and divorced before she realized (after five more years of friendship) that she had romantic feelings for him.
And then she waited a few more months for him to feel the same way. You’re that girl.
You’re too understanding.
He’s a banker working fifteen-hour days! You’re not going to demand he takes you on a date on a weeknight -- you understand he’s busy.
You’re 'pretty' -- not 'sexy.'
You’re cute. You’re adorable. You’re attractive. You’re pretty. What are you not? Sexy.
You overthink everything.
You’re constantly overanalyzing yourself to make sure you don't come off as too extreme.
You’re trying so hard to be authentic that you end up losing yourself in translation.
You don’t string anybody along.
You would never settle; that just makes zero sense to you. Why waste your time with someone who doesn't actually interest you?
You don’t crave constant attention.
In fact, attention from someone you’re not interested in physically repulses you.
You’re not addicted to drama, and that confuses everybody.
When the other girls gossip, you say something awkward like "I like bread." You can't think of anything else.
Drama freaks you out. And, like any rational person, you want out the minute a relationship becomes too dramatic.
You actually just want to hang out with your friends on most nights.
You aren't using your GNO as some sort of excuse or a retreat from men to heal your wounded heart.
No, you simply just want to hang out with your friends. That's really all you want to do.
You can’t possibly fathom why someone would just text you 'hi.'
And then (and here goes the overthinking), there’s the implied expectation that you guys are going to spend the next few hours trading the most mundane details of your respective days.
You don’t care what he had for lunch, and you see no need to text about it for twenty minutes.
When you say 'k,' you literally mean 'k.' And no one gets that at all.
Like I said, you’re not one for unnecessary texts. You’re not saying “k” to be rude; you're saying it because you agree with whatever that person said first. You don’t really see a need for an extensive discussion.
Your entire identity isn’t on display on social media, so people don’t think you’re real.
You ate the most gorgeous delicious sandwich yesterday, and what did you do with it? You ate it.
No pictures, no witty captions. In fact, you’re probably the only person on the planet who knows you ate it. How ~mysterious~!
You don’t play games.
People assume you’re playing games, but you’re not. You're not “playing hard to get”; you just legitimately forgot to text him back.
People can’t read you, because you don’t fall into a stereotype.
People don’t know how to categorize you, because our society doesn’t have a category for who you are.
There’s a “crazy b*tch” and there’s a “basic b*tch,” but there’s no “normal human b*tch.”
You’re a 'wife type,' not a 'girlfriend type.'
The fact of the matter is that no sane man wants to spend the rest of his life with the girl who torched his car.
He doesn't want to take cute selfies and watch kitten videos with the most boring girl in the planet.
The boring girl might be fun for now, but you're the end game. That, my normal friend, is your "category."