When my friends and I would go out drinking I would head back, pop over to his dorm, get me some, and head back to them. On the weekends I would still go to his place and catch a cab to the hotel afterward.
I was floating on a cloud because Jeremey worked magic on me. He had the magic stick. If I could, I would have spent every second being fucked by him but I knew I couldn't because when we were not having sex we had nothing in common.
He would talk about things that bored me to tears and I struggled to pretend to be interested. I knew I couldn't spend time with him that didn't involve his dick inside of my pussy.
Unfortunately, he started walking me home from school and talking to me more about his life and things that he was interested in. Soon, he started asking me when I was going to invite him to hang out with my friends. I was floored. He was perfect, what happened. "I thought you didn't want to hang out with my friends," I said.
"I don't, but it would be nice to be invited," he replied.
I pondered over his words trying to make sense of what he was asking me. He couldn't seriously be asking me what I thought he was asking me. "Why would I invite you?" I stared a little dumbfounded. We'd been together for a couple of months. He was a player. He was supposed to be my release. I didn't want more. Did I?
His eyes opened wide but I didn't understand why. "Because I'm your boyfriend, remember?" he said through gritted teeth.
It annoyed me for some reason. I hate that when I get angry I become vicious and venomous with my words. If I am being honest with myself I was this kind of venomous to girls too.
I still remember high school when girls that weren't a part of our group would come and try to sit with us. "Hi" I would say with a calm and cheerful voice as I would stand and make my way over to the girl that just asked to sit down. My friends never lifted their eyes to acknowledge her presence. They knew I had this so they weren't concerned.
"Hi" she would say or some variation of that. Remember, this didn't happen just once. There was always someone who felt worthy.
"I was hoping there was room for one more" she (they) would say.
"Oh, sweety..." I said, oozing condescension.
"You cannot sit here, there simply isn't enough room." I waved my hands across the table to showcase how little room there was, but the truth was, there was plenty of room. She just wasn't worthy.
"Ummmm...there's a spot right there." she would say. Sometimes, if they were smart, they would walk away gracefully and avoid the train wreck that would soon follow but some girls, they needed more motivation. That's ok, I always had a plan.
"Oh, you meant that spot right there?" I'd point to the empty seat that she pointed to.
"Yeah, I could sit there." her eyes lit up as though she had won. Poor thing.
"No, no, no, not there. You can't sit there. It is reserved."
"Anybody but you sweety," I said deadpan. The girls at our table chucked. They enjoyed watching me in action.
"Why is that?"
Superballs on this one. I smirked.
"Well, let's see, first, look at you. Second, look at me. Third, look at everyone sitting at this table. Now ask yourself. Do you really belong here?" I paused for effect.
"Now sweetie, I get it. You think because you have a moderately cute face that means we would accept you. Do you see anyone here accepting you? Is there anyone sitting at this table coming to defend you right now? Is there anyone saying to me 'Let her sit down!' No, there isn't. There isn't because you are not one of us. Please, sweetheart, do yourself a favor and find somewhere else to sit. This table is full. Don't let the empty seats fool you. You can never sit here. Are we good?" I'd ask.
Most of the time they would turn and walk away but every once in a while they would try to defend themselves. The ones that defended themselves I respected. The others, not so much. They weren't even worth a goodbye.
In the end, they all would accept defeat. No one ever tried more than once. The only way to be accepted was to be chosen. We chose you, not the other way around. It was simple. It was pure.
Now, as I stood face to face I was forced to confront my own feelings. Being intimate with someone changes things. I really did like him. I didn't want to be vicious towards Jeremy, he was the best lay I ever had. If he'd only stuck to the agreement things could have remained as they were.
He didn't, they wouldn't, and it was all his fault.
YOU ARE READING
When You Realize You've Become a Mean Girl...and What Comes Next (In Editing)Non-Fiction
It isn't every day that you find yourself waking up and realizing "Hey, I'm a mean girl." I could make sure people like you didn't make their way into our circle and I was very good at it. You wanted to sit with us? No thank you. You wanted to talk...