[Inspired by a conversation with MinCat.]
A couple of remarks that one hears so frequently that one just wants to bite one’s fist with boredom:
- “You know me, I’m flaky like that.”
You will not believe the number of people that spout this one or its variants. Or maybe you will believe because you have likely either been at the receiving end of this or one of those who uses it to get out of behaving like an adult who actually commits to things and follows up on that commitment. The point is, it is not just this one special snowflake that is flaky, but enough people for it to start seeming like an epidemic. I am writing this to cure those out there who believe that they are charmingly “flaky like that” to realise that they are a) not alone b) not charming.
It is for people like this that I developed the three-strikes rule. It is a highly efficient way of saving myself the energy of planning around such a person. I just cannot even. You flake, you bake in my book.
For me, flaking repeatedly is an indication of a) not caring enough (which needs to be responded to in kind, unless one is completely sure one adores this person to cope with their dilettantism) b) an immature emotional and intellectual development (which does not bode well for friendship). So.
2. “I’m not a girly girl. I don’t really get along with girls. They’re so bitchy. I get along with boys better.”
Yes, lady, you and the other 300,000 female souls out there. So many women these days seem allergic to other women that it’s a mystery that the concept of girlfriends exists at all.
Guess what? The phenomenon of wanting to hang out with the socially more powerful group is not new. Women are bitchy and catty because they have always had to fight for the crumbs of power. You disdain them for that and want to play with the big boys. We get it.
Just as long as you know that you’re not original, nor do you somehow become a bigger person by hanging out with the boys, carry on. I’ll enjoy that soul-affirming conversation with my girls because you know what, hanging out with other women is not all cat and mouse. Sometimes it’s kittens in a basket purring.