There is something surprisingly comforting about the moment when you hear girls talk about the lads in their life who have referred to them as “psycho.” As a female, you can often feel like you’re in it alone when you’re storming around your room and blaring Dua Lipa New Rules. Sometimes things can build up to the point where you can actually feel yourself gradually going insane. You want nothing more than to text a load of boys who couldn’t give a crap about you while you mentally attack the master of mind games in your life with a shoe. Yes, there is something comforting about the desire to fall into the arms of men who will only hold you for a moment while you’re on the mission to get over the arms who act like they want to hold you but somehow always end up letting go of their grip.
Tip toeing around your problems is about as elegant as a Saturday night dance floor grind. I am curious about how many girls are currently staring at their phone only to see plenty of messages from the girls saying “Don’t text him!” but there are no texts from him. Not one text has been sent from the phone of that man who had sent you so many sweet texts previously. No matter how many squad members try to help you keep the psycho in (bless them the sweethearts, they always mean well,) sometimes you need to take control of your own life before your own thoughts suffocate you or convince you to do stupid things to intentionally try and ruin his life because you believe that is the answer to long term happiness. Example 1 – Hitting on his best friend. Example 2 – Eh, only to be looked into if example 1 doesn’t work well enough, but it might be an idea to have a supply of eggs ready to go. Also, if you’re anything like me, every group needs that bold member who always sends that third unanswered text to determine whether Saturday night needs to be a vodka or wine night.
As much as we hate to admit it, every girl has at least one guy, if not two, who make her blood boil like the contents of Mount Vesuvius just before it took out Pompeii. You try your best to act completely normal around him but all you can think is “Wow, here you are talking to me about your new job yet yesterday evening I was almost shaking backwards and forwards in the corner of my bedroom or about to come down the stairs backwards while my head was spinning 360 degrees.” Yes, this is normal, it just means you care about this little peasant boy who at this moment in time just looks like the poo emoji in your mind. Mature I know, but whatever helps you to drag him kicking and screaming off his pedestal.
The most frustrating thing about all of this? The fact that you probably just stubbed your baby toe on a door or hit yourself on the head with your phone by accident while in a complete fit of rage (just me?) and he is probably sitting on his own bed laughing away about the influence he is having on you while he throws more junk into his bubbling cauldron.
Is it just me? Am I just easily wound up like an old fashioned music box or are today’s men becoming increasingly good at making us question our level of sanity?
