I might be a bitch, but I think that's okay

Since most of you don’t know me, I’m going to preface all of this by saying that I’m actually a very nice person, and a fiercely loyal friend. Talk to anyone who knows me well, and they’ll (hopefully) tell you that I’m a sharp witted, snarky, girl who has a tendency toward shyness. To outsider, this snarky, shy attitude undoubtedly comes off as bitchy.

This comes as sort of a shock to me, because honestly, I can count the number of people I hate one hand. In the general sense of the word, I’m not a bitch. I don’t seek vengeance, I don’t spread rumors, I don’t tell secrets, I’m not out to ruin people's life.

I am not, however, afraid to talk shit about everyone behind their back. I think of it as “getting a second opinion” not “telling everyone about that time you hooked up with that German exchange student”. In my mind, I’m doing you a favor.

But the real evidence comes clear to me when I look back at high school. Granted, it wasn’t that far ago, but hindsight gives me amazing insight into my own life.

(An aside: these stories revolve around a boy that Claire and other friends like to refer to as “The Idiot”. Needless to say, she doesn’t approve. Its kind of a long story, and since this isn’t Claire’s story, she doesn’t get to make any snide remarks about my love life.)

Let’s start with example #1. Example #1 involves a boy who we’ll call The Boy. The Boy was happily in a relationship of 6 months when we went on a school trip together. During this trip, I realized that there was some chemistry between us, and that The Boy was kind of a cool dude.

But I knew his girlfriend, and she was a pretty nice person. I didn’t want to ruin her relationship ship for my own selfish gains. But I decided that just talking to him couldn’t hurt…

Let’s stop right there, and examine that statement. I didn’t start out with terrible intentions, or even really want to hurt the Girlfriend. I didn’t even really want to steal the Boy away. But as time went on, and The Boy I were talking more and more, the inevitable happened: the Boy broke up with the Girlfriend. I was officially a homewrecker.

Example #2 involves the same Boy, but this time a girl I’ll call the Girl. The Girl and I were friends. The Girl was COMPLETELY in love with The Boy. The Boy knew that, I knew that, pretty everyone knew that. But The Boy wasn’t too keen on the girl. She was persistent, and well, persisted. On top of that, I was in love with The Boy. No one knew, except for maybe The Boy. But he certainly wasn’t telling.

Prom was coming up, and both the Girl and I had our hearts set on having The Boy take us. The problem being, of course, that there were two of us, and only one of him. Thus we were at an impasse.

I then did what can only be regarded as the bitchest move in my short life: I asked The Boy to prom. The Girl never saw it coming. She could have only regarded it as a betrayal of the most heinous kind. And I really can’t say anything to defend it. I’m sure she never forgave me.

Thus, at least part of my bitchiness is revealed. A shy, mild mannered girl suddenly and inexplicably becomes a bitch, totally by accident. All I can say is at least I’m in good company.

Back to you, Claire.