Mighty Nice…

Oh God, I did it. I swore I never would. I became ‘that girl’—Miss Nice. You see, I have black hair, red lips, pale skin, 34C’s, I’m French-Scottish and I’m born in Year of the Monkey… I tend to scare them off.

I thought being ‘the girl next door’ might make a refreshing change. I thought, well, I’m getting older, let’s try charitable and nice. Less Joan Jett and more Betty Crocker.

One of the fab things about being friends with exes is being privy to feedback… Several had mentioned that I can be aloof and seem uncaring. Gasp.

So I got onto it ASAP. I decided to channel more Betty Draper and less Betty Blue.

For the past 6 months I really have been the epitome of Pleasant. Chanting “it’s in giving we receive” in front of the mirror every morning, sending emoticoned emails, maintaining friendships, inviting exes over for cooking classes, holding their hand at doctor’s appointments, sewing their buttons back in place, looking after their pets… None of these are euphemisms either.

It’s been like a little assignment, a project, if you will.

Actually it seemed to have become more like a trance.

Eventually the strain was starting to weigh heavy. Even heavier than the jewellery I wear on a daily basis… which is saying a lot.

You know when something is ok with everyone else but not you? Like that time in uni when everyone wanted to down an E with a tequila before that 9 hour roadtrip in the rain? Yeah. That’s how I felt the other day- The Day the Zombie Trance Was Lifting… Sitting with a recent ex having a good old chat and a vino on his balcony while watching the sunset- he turned to me and said, “hey, can I ask you to do some washing of mine for me at yours?”. I felt my Inner Bitch stir from her hibernation.

A few days later I found myself defending a positively cretinous ex’s behaviour to my group of girlfriends. One, obviously comfortable with her Inner Bitch, looked at me dumbfounded and said “what the HELL has gotten into you girl? This man you’re defending has a Hate Blog in his honour!! After all we know about him, it damn well better burn when he pees!!” She has a point. The man is and always will be an asshole, who am I kidding?! The cherry on top was when I went to visit a guy friend who was busy on his phone when he walked in, waved at me to hold his briefcase while he proceeded to go into detail about his latest conquest with a friend on the phone. I was holding his briefcase diligently until my Inner Bitch violently awoke. Her voice in my head told me to gently place his briefcase on top of his laptop, flick my hair, bat my lashes and kiss his hot colleague while waving goodbye.

Excuse me, but f*ck that sh*t. Being bad feels really really good.

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