An Open Letter To Boys

What’s going on?

Seriously, have you guys been meeting to try and conjure up new plans and ways to be mean and cause girls confusion? I’ve long suspected there’s been a Boys Club where you discuss how sniffing a shirt is a good way to tell if it’s wearable for another couple of days or where you come up with new curse phrases to hurl at the TV while watching sport. Or where you decide to make a pact to all agree that a TV show is ah-mazing and stick to that notion despite evidence to the contrary (Two and a Half Men anyone?!).


A couple of things have happened recently to have my muttering WTF (and I don’t mean Why The Face). A little while ago a friend of mine went on date. She is one of my besties so I may be impartial to this description of her but it’s pretty accurate. She is a redhead with almost-porcelain skin and long legs and thighs that don’t touch (lucky whore). This was promptly ignored by the guy she was on a date with. Instead it was blatantly put out there that he’d prefer if she was a blonde, because you know he’s used to dating models and blonde princesses. He’s not btw, he’s just being douche. Now while you’re perfectly entitled to an opinion of that type, perhaps keeping it inside or rather just sharing it with your bros is better than over sushi.

Normally something like that would invoke a couple of four-letter words, you know, solidarity and the whole Ya-Ya-Sisterhood thing but it wasn’t as harsh as say the thing that recently happened to me. I recently met a boy and we’ve been sorta dating and having adult sleepovers for a couple of months now. Not serious unless compared to a Kardashian marriage but still more than casual fling. You’d think when it fizzled out and one of us had to make the call, it would be done in the right fashion, face-to-face. Not over Blackberry Messenger. Oh yes, not even a text that cost money. A free messaging service. And instead of being relieved that I wasn’t going to be the bad guy who had to it, I was pissed off I was not worth more than a BBM message. God help me if he had used an emoticon.

I know we’re living with a technological advanced world but surely some decorum still exists. If it had been a one-date thing I’d totally excuse the uncouth manner but this was a little more. Although not ideal, even a phone call would suffice. Or at least a delivery note attached to a box of cupcakes. Which I think is actually the best way to do it. While you’ll be sad reading the note, at least there’ll be something to cheer you up.

Being wounded I thought that was pretty harsh that was until I was told this gem.
A friend of mine was dumped by text.
On the dancefloor.
While the ex was next to her, dancing.
Boys, I can’t even.
There are no words.
Just don’t!

So Boys, next time you’re at your secret club and discussing how great 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner is, perhaps you could reconsider some of your moves.
Thanks, and we still love you.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!