I’ve been thinking a lot about why girls, and by girls, I mean me (I?), date jerks.
Remember the kid from the making fun of the bangs episode?
Tell me based on our first interaction:
Jerk or not jerk?
Then tell me based on our second interaction:
Jerk or not jerk?
The answer (in both cases) is clearly: jerk.
He hasn’t said one nice thing to me since he walked in my house that first night
“Hey, you’re that funny girl from…”
We all know that I’m a sap for people who think I am funny.
And here’s the thing about jerks.
They always think I am funny
Because I can banter with the best of them.
If they are confident enough to say funny stuff, to poke fun at my weaknesses,
you know they are confident enough to ask me out.
And then because they are funny,
I have to bring my A-game.
I have to be funny.
There’s something exhilarating about having to be on your A-game.
To be ready with a quick comeback, a witty retort, the latest irony.
But then this is what happens.
He is funny.
I am funny.
He says something sarcastic, and I counter.
Pretty soon everyone is laughing, and then I realize…
We haven’t said one sincere thing in our entire conversation.
It’s fun in the worst sense of the word.
I’m being a fraud. And so is he.
And I go home feeling like nothing real happened,
Is this all there is?
And then I realize,
Wait a second.
I am Liz.
This is me.
Sometimes I am the funny girl who emcees stuff and banters with the best of them
But sometimes I am the girl in the long-sleeved shirt and scrub pants reading a book and not wearing make up.
And if all I ever do is banter, they’re missing out on this half of me.
And like it or not, this half of me is pretty cool too.
Even if it’s not as funny.
Without further ado,
I hereby resolve to stop dating jerks.
Funny boys, yes.
Bring on the funny boys.
But only when they are not funny at my expense.
Only when we are laughing
because it is real.