A Long Overdue Message To “That Girl”

A Long-Overdue Message To "That Girl"

People throw around the term “that girl” a lot in today’s social media-fueled world. We shamelessly post duck-faced selfies to Instagram, tweet about The Bachelor, and update our Facebook status about our bubble bath and wine combination, all while using the hashtag #ThatGirl. Now, according to my brain and also the Bible, none of these actions actually make you “that girl.” Maybe it’s one of those slang terms that has such a loose definition that it’s starting to lose all meaning. Maybe it’s overused and misused like “basic” or “ratchet,” to the point where none of us really know what it actually means. Or maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, but as a generation, we can all agree on one thing: being “that girl” means you are, without a doubt, the drunkest girl at the party.

We all have a friend who, to most other humans, is adoringly known as “that girl.” You know her, you love her, and sometimes, you want to kill her. You’ve carried her out of bars, you’ve held her hair back on nearly every Tequila Tuesday, and if you’re lucky, you may have even bailed her out of jail, you good friend, you. If no one is immediately popping into your mind, “that girl” of your friend group is probably you. If so, I’m about to lay down some real shit on you. If you are “that girl”? Fucking respect. People do not appreciate how difficult your self-inflicted job is. You have to deal with ridicule, judgement, and broken iPhones on a regular basis. There are way too many inconveniences, and it’s no even task, but look at you, being able to get through it all. I respect you, I love you, and I thank you.

Being “that girl” is such an innocent little feat, which is why I’m requesting that you give your friend the benefit of the doubt. She did not mean to get that drunk — she just maybe forgot about dinner, drank five vodka sodas, also forgot about bathroom breaks, and then stood up. You all know very well what happens next: zero to blackout in a single motion. Fucking oops. I need you to do something. I need you to take a step back and realize something that maybe you haven’t realized before. Your friend is helping you.

Think about it. Who do you get to blame when fucking drunk ass Danny won’t get off you about going home with him that night? “That girl” will. All you need to say is, “I’m so sorry, Ashley is too drunk to make it home by herself and I need to take her back to the house, so I can’t come over.” Boom. Crisis averted.

Who do you get to verbally compare yourself to when you’re talking to your crush, Jake, at the bar? “That girl.” Just say, “Oh yeah, that’s Ashley. She’s seriously awesome, but she can never handle her liquor.” You think, “Now, Jake, look how well-spoken and poised I am in comparison, even after I’ve had all of this to drink. Do you love me yet?” Boom. He probably doesn’t, but you might get to sleep in his bunk bed now. Score!

Who do you get to cut off when the Liam Hemsworth-esque random at the bar offers you and your friend free drinks? Yep, “that girl.” You say, “Oh, she’s probably had too much tonight — right, Ash? I’ll just take hers since you already bought it.” Boom. Now you’ve doubled the amount of free liquor you’re drinking tonight and you get to chat up the Liam lookalike. All you have to do is make sure Ashley is in the hands of your one gal pal who isn’t trying to get scooped up by a suitor tonight, and you, my friend, are in the clear.

Don’t you see? You shouldn’t be angry with Ashley. You should thank her. She is a vital part of the group dynamic — a vital part, indeed. You each bring something to the table, and in this particular case, her degeneracy is what shines the most. Think about how much worse your life would be if “that girl” tried to pull her shit together? Somebody would have to fill in for her, and eventually, that somebody would have to be you. Maybe you’re at an acquaintance’s birthday and you only know a few people. As a result, you drink way too much to cope. Of course, since it’s only and acquaintance’s event, your best friend Leslie can’t say, “Oh, she’s just being Miley,” and when you fall off your barstool, you’re not just Miley. You’re the asshole who thoroughly embarrasses herself because you can’t handle your liquor. Your only saving grace is a well-placed “let’s do shots,” and eventually, even that will hurt you more than it helps. Thank God for “that girl.”

If I haven’t made it clear by now, I think all of “those girls” in the world deserve a little more respect than they receive. I applaud the fuck out of you, because you deal with stress in a very graceful way — even the tiniest amount of stress in my life leads to panic attacks and unnecessary drug use. Not to mention, there’s the fact that you are basically a detective. When you wake up and have no idea where you are or where your stuff is, you basically turn into Olivia Benson. Somehow, you manage to figure out your life, even if your phone is lost, broken, or dead.

It’s a tough job. It takes courage. To top it all off, do you know what I love most? That you are apologetic the next morning. It was an accident that you got so fucked up, so you wake up with remorse. Once you’ve figured out your life and someone tells you that she helped your blacked out ass all night, you feel so damn appreciative. There’s none of that “sorry not sorry” bullshit. You are sorry. You should be sorry. You were a disaster, so thank you for apologizing. I love you, “that girl,” and for the umpteenth time, I thank you. Don’t let those haters get you down. You make the world go ‘round.

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