hard to be a girl, so nice to be a jerk
If I were you, I’d have told myself to get over myself already with the braces. Think of the African kids, I would exclaim theatrically. They can’t get braces, good for them, I would reply sourly. Much bickering would ensue.
You didn’t say any such thing to me, Internet people, because as a rule you are not jerks. I, on the other hand, sometimes am. It’s amusing to be cynical. It’s fun to mock people and know for a fact I’m smarter than they are.
If a friend broke a leg (God forbid, of course), I’d be the first to send emotional text messages and bring over soup. I’d look at them with moist eyes and tell them jokes to keep their spirit up. I’d even show them puppy pictures.
But as long as there’s no real trouble – or if I don’t like the person I’m talking to – there’ll be as much sarcasm and teasing as I can produce. And because I only pick smart people as my friends, I usually get away with it.
There isn’t much of a screening process to become my friend. When I meet someone, I understand very quickly whether I like them. If that is the case, the deed is basically done. Pretty much no gradation other than yes/no.
I don’t really know what goes on on the other end. Why do people choose to have anything to do with me? I’m acerbic, smart-aleck-y, honest as a principle (decidedly not a good trait), and lots of other disgusting things.
Whatever the reason, even though I’m a much dumber version of House more often than not,* I still have excellent friends who put up with me and send me under-deserved praise in SMS. And that’s the point. I couldn’t be more thankful.
*At other times, I’m Pitiful Whiny Girl, all OCD and anxiety, no brains, just emotions. Even less attractive and we’ll talk about it some other time.