To My Dearest Matthew Richard Hudson,

The trouble with baiting a woman, with throwing something argument-worthy in front of her is you're bound to get a bite. We, as creatures, will rarely let injustice flaunt itself in front of us without remark.

We do not, however, remark upon these injustices because we like the art of argument or because of some compulsion that we cannot control; we remark because we see an error that should be fixed.

Which brings us to the matter at hand. You think by bringing up a subject that once caused an uproar, by figuratively lighting a match where a fire once raged you will reignite the issue.

You are sadly mistaken.

See, that fire burned with heat and fervor because it was genuine. I released my fury upon your ignorance because I knew that without correction you would continue to operate under such delusions, in this case that men are better at any and every task than women.

But this is insulting. For you to think that you could get a rise out of me so easily not only further highlights your idiocy, but proves your point incorrect.

See, a match is hardly going to light ash and soot, which is all that is left of that previous altercation.

Not to mention I am not so stupid as to take this bait when I can clearly see the hook.

See, I'm much more clever than that.

The moment you sputtered those words in an attempt to make me out as a quick tempered and outrageous, hysterical woman you exposed your pathetic plot and quite frankly made yourself out to be an imbecile.

But you cannot see your attempt as a failure because you are so blinded by your ignorance and arrogance.

If your pathetic, minuscule brain could perceive the truth you'd see that, contrary to your personal beliefs, I, the woman, made out the victor and you, tired and negligible man, the defeated.

First Runner Up

Every single time a girl “beats” me with a guy (i.e. she gets him instead of me) anyone who knows the story and finds her picture on facebook says, “You are so much prettier than she is.” They say this like it instantly heals the wound, like just because I'm prettier than some girl I can't be upset.

It's a consolation prize.

Regardless of who is actually more attractive the fact that I didn't get the guy puts me in second place, and with the red ribbon I get the “prettier” award.

Because in this world only ugly whores get boyfriends.

This is a common phenomenon, really. All the time I hear best friends, good friends, kind of friends, and obliging acquaintances saying “Oh my gosh, you are so much cuter than she is!” when they hear that the person they're talking to didn't quite win the heart of the boy in question.

This, as we all know, is a common occurrence with me. I'm USUALLY second best in the minds of a guy... mostly due to timing but sometimes just because I'm a weirdo and no sane boy would decide that I'm a prime candidate for a girlfriend. And with these common occurrences I hear my friends sincerely say, “You're prettier.” or “Your tits are WAY better.” like that will make me feel better.

IT DOESN'T.

I don't want to be prettier than someone else, I want the boy who's taking them to movies and snuggling with them on couches to be doing that with me. I can dazzle myself in the mirror until the cows come home but it's not going to squelch that awful lonely feeling I get when I'm lying in bed at night...

...Um, anyways, I have started to say, “Thanks for the consolation prize,” to the friends who offer this form of comfort whenever I'm passed over for another lady.

Until tonight.

See, tonight I was at a friend's house (Bromansion) and through a conversation a boy who DEFINITELY passed me over for another girl (This was because of timing; he had broken up with a girlfriend of three years six months before we met and AS we began to cultivate a relationship that could stray from friendship to lover-ship she re-entered the picture and wanted him back... He took her back because Love doesn't just disappear six months after an unexpected break-up.) Whatever, I've made my peace with the situation because we're still good friends.

THE POINT IS during a conversation this boy said the following in a tone that couldn't be dripping more with sarcasm;

“I DEFINITELY don't want to have sex with you!”

Which, for those of you who have no idea what sarcasm means translates to:

“I want to have sex with you.”

I am literally giddy about this. I told my roommates the second I got home. I want to shout it from the rooftops. The crippling loneliness has left my side for the evening because THIS BOY wants to sleep with me. He thinks I'm pretty.

Now yeah, technically, this is a consolation prize. Instead of DATING this boy, I'm just super sexually attractive to him... the definition of getting something small for competing.

Except, just because this comes from him and not from a bunch of girls in committed relationships, it's fine in my book. Which is bad. I shouldn't suddenly be okay because the guy I'm mostly infatuated with is attracted to me- if he's so attracted we should be GOING OUT, not sometimes meeting up for drinks and making eye contact OFTEN. (Seriously, we make an unusual amount of eye contact during parties.) But I'm accepting it. I'm letting one sarcastic comment raise my self esteem and make me feel better about being single.

(Also, I don't think I'd actually say, “Thanks for the consolation prize” to him. I'm not THAT sassy.)

So yes, I should raise my standards and stop letting boys affect my self esteem. I should stop letting where I place in the game of love govern my self image.

But let's be honest. I won't.

TWIST!

This isn't funny. I mean, it is, but it shouldn't be.

Nick and Emmalee.

My ex and my sister.

Together.

I'm... flabbergasted. And forever off the hook for that pub-crawl thing. Seriously, if I “stabbed him in the back” he just nuked me... in the front.

The strangest part is I'm not mad. I knew I was mad about the Kate and Jake thing. I knew while I was assuring her that I was okay and not at all upset that I was indeed upset. But this is... different. Probably because I really don't have feelings for him anymore. (I'm not just saying that. If you could look into my soul you'd see it's true.) That's not to say I'm not still angry he turned half of my study abroad group against me... Especially the boys. I loved the boys. (Chris has still been a wonderful friend and for that I am extremely thankful.) Beyond that, though- a situation that would make just about anyone upset- I'm not still hung up on him.

Nor am I really hung up on the fact that he's with my sister.

I'm surprised. I wonder if he remembers how often he called her a whore.

I wonder if he remembers that she's a world-class cheater. (The reason I was dead to him.)

I suppose it doesn't matter. Because I'm actually kind of glad they're together.

Yes, I'm aware that this is VERY strange. Normal people don't get slightly giddy over their exes hooking up with their sisters.

But normal people haven't been living under a cloud of guilt and blame for a year.

See, I'm not happy because I care about them and I want them to be happy. I'm happy because I'm off the hook. I am no longer the bad guy. For the rest of time I messed up but he went and did something even worse.

ALSO, I'm getting a little sick of him dropping bombs on me the last night of Spring Break. Last year he broke up with me... this year he made out with my sister. Simply precious.

Funny, eh?

So I've been invited to be a part of a sketch comedy group.  Wonderful, right?  Yes.  It is.  But you know me, I don't write on a blog about how ecstatic I am about life!  I write about the things that trouble me. 
And Oh Mommy, am I troubled.

Because I was invited, I didn't have to audition.  Which is an honor, that someone ASSUMES I'm funny enough, but it forces me to quite suddenly PROVE I'm funny enough.  Auditions are grueling and humiliating and hard, but you get validation right away if they take you- the case with Friendship Ocean.  But with Man Hole I'm thrown in a ring with a bunch of people, FUNNY PEOPLE, looking in at me yelling, "DO SOMETHING FUNNY!  MAKE US LAUGH!"  And I'm so scared I can't!

Okay, that's super over dramatic.  I'm worried I won't be able to come up with some good sketches, but I also trust myself somewhat and think I really could write some good ones.  In the end, I could always steal 'Hans and Greta' for a few hours... cut out some of the unecessary parts, and slap on a fresh coat of paint....

I just described writing a whole new sketch...

Anyways, I just felt like complaining more to cyberspace about my menial problems.