Sometimes You Just Need to Be a Jerk

It’s not like I consider this to be my mission in life or anything, but I must admit I do take an almost sport-like satisfaction in being a complete jerk to guys who annoy me. Let me clarify what I mean by “annoy me:” I mean guys who reek, to at least some degree, of sleaze.

The ones who sidle up to you at parties and think you can’t tell that their intense interest in your most mundane thoughts is fake, even though they spend half the conversation looking at your boobs. The ones who touch the small of your back half drunkenly, because they probably read somewhere that this move will make you more comfortable with them, thereby increasing the potential to hook up. Boring, ordinary guys who can’t hold much of a conversation because they’re too focused on their purpose – which could involve either you, or any other vagine in the room – to actually be interesting.

That’s probably pretty harsh and judgmental of me. Sad story. Sometimes I get annoyed by guys who I sense are trying out some technique they read on a blog somewhere. Sometimes it’s that there’s a sense of arrogance about the way their flirtation is so methodical and aggressive. Mostly it comes down to having zero respect for someone who is clearly on the prowl, because I just want to enjoy my beverage and have some stimulating conversation without getting eye-f*%ked. There is nothing more irritating and depressing than someone who has nothing to contribute to a conversation and just keeps prodding you to talk because he’s A.) Thinking that by listening, you’ll assume he’s a great guy and will therefore want to get it on, B.) Using this time to zone out and think about hooking up and C.) Totally not even listening.

There are different degrees of responding to these guys, but you can still do so in a callous and insensitive way. The quickest is to just end the conversation. Smile and nod, tell him that your friend across the room just fell over and you have to go be with her now, and walk away. Or, if you feel like you shouldn’t be the one to change location, you can make the guy want to leave by being unresponsive and unfriendly. You don’t have to be downright mean, just look at him like he insulted your dying grandmother when he tries to be entertaining. This should be easy because he probably isn’t very entertaining at all anyway.

This is why I’m terrible. I love to watch these guys sweat. I love to see their tried and true tactics fail and their egos shrivel. Even though I know that in a few minutes they’ll find some other girl to build it back up again, I honestly enjoy the feeling of making a jerk feel like he’s a jerk. Because why should I exert any energy to be patient and friendly with someone who has zero interest in anything above my neck and below my knees? Lucky for me I was born with a bucket of snark in one hand and a bin full of sass in the other. Fun fact: these dudes most often don’t pick up on either of these things. If they do, it takes them a while. In the meantime, their confusion and obliviousness is far more entertaining than the pointless conversation they’re desperately trying to salvage from the brink of total apathy.

I wish I could be sympathetic to these dudes. I wish I could be less judgmental and refrain from categorizing them immediately and mentally dismissing them. I also wish I had a kitten, but I’m allergic, so let’s just chalk it all up to one of life’s sad stories and move on, okay? Okay. I’m not saying look someone in the eye and tell them that they’re a useless collection of bone and tissue who’s wasting precious minutes of your life. You’re not Regina George, nor should you ever aspire to be. But that doesn’t mean you should let some jerk get all up in your grill, especially if his intentions are shallow and sleazy. Too often women feel the need to be polite instead of asserting themselves and their space. I say take back your parties, nay, all your social interactions, and feel no remorse prioritizing interesting people and fun times over the wants of some guy you’ll never, in your right mind, speak to again.


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About the Author,

There are no rules to life, and that's just fine. Figuring out what relationships are while moving from one city to another, hopping a plane, train or driving cross country yet again, the one thing I know for sure is that romance makes about as much sense as an armadillo in a shoe store. But heck if I won't try to figure it out anyway. Find out more about Julia at