No, my male friends don’t want my ass, I wonder if most of them know I’m female. Do they? I really couldn’t say.
Reason one why I can’t be friends with men: When you vent with your girlfriends they nod and sympathize. When you vent with your guy friends they tease you about how your voice cracks when you’re upset.
Reason two: If your guy friend invites you out for dinner, he’s wearing track pants and will put his feet up on the booth. Worse, he took you to a place with booths. He will pay and he will expect you to clean his bathroom in return. Your girlfriends show up on time, smell nice and split the cheque.
Reason three: As pretty as you are, your actual guy friends see you as one of the boys and you may as well not even shower. He didn’t, and he’s still in the same track pants. They even smell like the booth in the cheap diner. Your girlfriends know you are a girl, they’ve helped you squish your tits into a new bra.
Reason four: They are men, and, um, eww. We are girls, and, um, perfect bitch princesses.
Reason five: No spare tampons, no emergency supply of any thing girly. No nail file, mascara or lipstick (right? Say yes, please say yes.) Girlfriends have a purse with a little person who will sell you whatever you could possibly need.
Why I Must Be Friends With Men
My male friends are a constant reminder that there are some decent men out there. Wonderful, wonderful men.