Overcoming the Urge to be a Judgemental Bitch and Help a Fellow Woman Out…

I have a problem.

A serious problem.

A problem I had not become aware of until recently. 

I am a judgmental bitch. 

 I am literally throwing shade with wild abandon.

And I’m not sorry about it.

Now, outwardly, I’m a nice person. Extremely. If you met me, you’d think I was a sweet person. I am that person in the office who is always willing to lend a hand, come in on a Saturday, pick up a shift. It’s 3am and your drunk and stuck at a bar/yacht/general place you don’t want your human person to be? Oh, I’ll come get you (within reason, I have a day job). Hell, I got a role in a play recently because I am “just so sweet”.

A little part of me would like to blame my obsessive love of drag queens. Drag queens are catty, from what I have observed. Then I thought about what a drag queen is. A female impersonator. And yes, I am aware that this is one facet of drag. Drag is a beautiful rainbow of creativity. Do what you want with it. I’m merely stating my opinion. 

Women are catty. Women are mean. Naturally. There’s some weird gene that we are born with that enables us to flip a switch and tear someone a new one so deeply, it’s incredible. Some gay men also have this gene, which personally solidifies my theory that you are “born” homosexual and you do not “choose” homosexuality as a lifestyle. 

 
I digress

I never realized that I was so judgmental until I was explaining a game a friend and I play whilst out at the bar. Honestly, I should have expected it. Me and booze have this relationship where it just removes my brain filter and I gain the volume control of a toddler. Believe me, it’s bad. But we literally spent of whole night reading the fuck out of this girl. Criticizing her makeup. Her choice of company. Her lack undergarments whilst wearing a t-shirt mini-dress. Her drunken white girl dance (it exists, go YouTube it… I’ll wait…). Her general sloppy drunk act. Everything. The only nice thing we had to say was she great shoes. She had great shoes. Like I’m fairly sure they may have been Christian Louboutin shoes, which may explain her tiny dress if she paid for those shoes. And I could fall into the black hole about how girls act in the bar, but I will save that for another time.

One thing that I took from this girl’s situation is that she had no girls helping her out. None. Zip. Nada. A girl that’s been ditched by her “friends” at the bar is a bad time waiting to happen. It’s like opening up an invitation to drug, kidnap and do terrible things to said girl. Not all the time, I watch enough Law & Order: SVU to know that’s usually how it happens. And because I’m a pessimist and I usually assume the absolute worst of a situation. Men pick off the weak one in the herd, just like predators in the Animal Kingdom. You ever wonder why you see such a tight-knit group of girls at the bar? So we don’t lose someone to Johnny McCreep-O at the end of the night.

I’m just saying, ladies, if you see that sloppy drunk girl in the bar with NO FRIENDS; get her a glass a water. Help her put her shoes back on before she gets a staph infection from walking around barefoot in the bar parking lot. Help her order an Uber so she can get home. 

Just help a woman out. Seriously. 

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