I dont suck, so the culprit of this story will go by the name *Bertha to conceal identity. To be able to share this incident on such a public platform could be 75% of the reason I even started this blog. During my first year of college I became close with a girl named *Bertha. *Bertha was a really sweet girl, we had gone to high school together and had mutual friends. I was so happy to have found a friend to distract me from my fresh break-up and major bout of homesickness. We watched Gossip Girl, went to parties, cooked dinner and adjusted to our new collegiate life. As months went on my friend went from Polyanna Purebred to Amanda Bynes in a hot minute. The night before our friendship ended I threw *Bertha a birthday outing. *Bertha hit up the wine bag pretty hard that night and ended up passing out and getting sick all over my room. Anyone who knows me knows I have EXTREME phobia of t-u (throw up) and had to call my ex-boyfriend to come help me because I was that traumatized and could not deal. He basically saved her life, cleaned her (and my apartment) up and put her to bed. Apparently home girl wasn’t happy with his care taking skills. She yelled and swung at him “Fuck you, I don’t even like you.” Over and over (super cute) I woke up the next morning traumatized and in serious need of Lexapro.
She had left before I got up and figured she was super embarrassed (Nope) Around 3pm I got a text “Hey betch, dinner at 8? Let’s do Sig Nu.” OMG – can’t wait. The entire night we never discussed the incident. “We should totally start looking at houses for next year. Living together will be amaze” … Shoot me in the face. Fast forward to us sitting in beach chairs in the garage of a frat house (college really never was for me) Bertha was chugging Popov vodka from the plastic bottle and chasing it with orange soda. She was well on her way to part duex of this trainwreck weekend. I immediately started looking for escape route. As I started to say goodbye ( we were in room with about 15 people) Bertha stands up and yells at me from across the room. “It must really suck” I could see she was getting in her mean slob kabob drunk phase. “What?”… “It must just suck to be you”…“What exactly do you mean, I don’t get it.” … (dramatic pause)… “You’re the ugly friend. Like I’m the hot one and you’re cute and all but between us, you’re the ugly friend.” “Are you joking?” “That came out wrong. Like I’m just the hot one and you’re fine and all but between us, you’re just the ugly friend. You know?” I would like to humbly go on record and say this was and is not the case. I was a bit taken back and tried to exit that cesspool frat house with as much dignity as humanly possible. Needless to say, we grew apart. What can I say? It’s hard being the ugly friend.
Haute Mess Lesson: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, unless your name is *Bertha.