COSMOPOLITAN June 2015 85
girls girls ewehatehate
TRAVIS RATHBONE/TRUNK ARCHIVEwomen and getting a knife
in the back. It’s crossed my
mind that Pretentia and her
friends have also stalked and
judged me based on my nose,
my weight, my Twitter jokes
and about a million other
inconsequential things that
I’ve judged the shit out of
Pretentia for. In my saner
moments, I realise Pretentia
isn’t The Worst™ – in fact,
I’d probably like her if I met
her randomly in line for an
H&M dressing room. Nope,
I’m just guilty of the worst
girl-on-girl offence: blaming
a girl when I should really
be blaming the guy.
I had an unhealthy sort
of relationship with my ex.
(I know. Totally shocking.)
I was constantly trying to be
“better” for him – funnier,
smarter, skinnier, hotter,
more successful – so he’d
stop being so distant and
actually commit. When he
committed to Pretentia, I
was astounded. Not because
she sucks or anything. She’s
pretty, seems smart, and she
likes him. It was just that
she didn’t seem so next-level
amazing. That was who he
wanted all along? He wasn’t
keeping me at arm’s length
because he was waiting for abrain surgeon/part-time
Victoria’s Secret model?
Why did I bust my arse so
much to make him like me?
Then it occurred to
me that my obsession with
Pretentia had very little to
do with her. It had to do with
my misunderstanding what
he wanted all along. He just
wasn’t the right guy for me,
but I fell for him anyway...
hard enough to spend the
next three years teetering
between self-improvement
and self-destruction. All
I was doing was dumping
my insecurities on her and
giving myself an anxiety-
nausea-sadness hangover
by keeping up with their
relationship through social
media, which only worked
to prolong my obsession.
This went on more or
less until I met my current
boyfriend, who loves me for
who I really am... and, uh,
who would be more than a
little bit disturbed to find
my ex’s girlfriend’s Insta
account on my computer’s
search history.
So I finally let it all go.
I stopped checking up on
her social media pages, even
when it seemed like an itch
I desperately had to scratch.
Eventually, the itch faded.
Anyway, if you’re reading
this, Pretentia, I’m really
sorry I was a creep, and I’d
totally be down for a drink
some time. #