Obviously the worst possible thing for a single straight woman would be having a guy mind-lump you into the category of “just like the other girls.” I want/need/yearn for you to know that I’m NOT like other girls.
The other girls are … OTHER GIRLS, you know? But not me, I’m totally different, I swear. Here’s a list of reasons why:
Here’s a list of reasons why…
Other girls play hard to get: I play clarinet (badly).
Other girls get jealous when you text your ex: I get jealous when I see the letter X on Sesame Street. He knows why.
Other girls like the color pink: I am not technically a human but a prism that reflects and likes all colors equally.
Other girls get excited to have chocolate for dessert: I get excited when using chocolate to create my bunker in preparation for “the invasion” because, based on a lot of really close reading of some Supreme Court opinions and early Beatles lyrics, I’m confident that “the invaders” will especially fear chocolate.
Other girls count calories: I count the seconds I’m forced to be awake before I can leave this realm for the sweet horror of dreams.
Other girls wear too much makeup when they go out: I never leave the house without my rubber Nixon mask.
Other girls love shoes: I believe shoes interfere with our ability to get stock tips from worms.
Other girls hate sports: I hate as a sport.
Other girls get happy when you say they’re not like other girls: I have already unhinged my jaw and devoured you whole, you are delicious and will sustain me til the morrow.
Maura Quint is a writer whose work can be found in publications such as McSweeneys, Runt of the Web, Someecards and on twitter at @behindyourback. She would be happy to name your band but you have to let her sing back up sometimes. Her mic doesn’t need to be on.