A Nice Girl

I am, due to basic disposition and rigorous socialization, general a nice girl. I’m friendly and kind and try to be welcoming. I can make polite conversation with nearly anyone. I don’t park in handicap spots or litter or suffer from road rage.


Nice girl all the time would be boring, right? So, allow me to share some of the ways in which I can be bratty, disagreeable and otherwise mean spirited:

– I have been for, oh, about 13 years nursing a fantasy wherein I become fabulously successful at something and my undergraduate alma mater asks me to come speak or something. And I gleefully tell them to shove it, as I am nursing a mighty grudge about the job they didn’t give me when I graduated (a job that I would have kicked SO MUCH ass at).

– there is an irritating person who always includes read receipts on the emails she sends me. I am a very prompt email returner (see, nice girl) and this person is not my boss, so this drives me crazy. So I have never, not once, clicked “yes” on the read receipt message. And I never, ever will. So petty, so satisfying.

– there is someone I went to school with who was the hands down most popular girl. Everyone loved her, she was pretty and rich and the boys all fell over themselves trying to get with her. She was also kind of mean and racist and manipulative. She is married and has children now. Her children are homely. They are. And this is satisfying to me. She’s still privileged and pretty but my kids are way cuter.


– I know someone who writes the world’s most boring blog. She thinks herself clever and edgy and loves, loves, loves to humble brag. I don’t usually read her blog (so boring) but I occasionally check it to confirm that she is still trite and banal and then I congratulate myself for being a better writer.


Ahh. Satisfying to come out of the nice girl closet.



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