5 Ways To Deal With Being The Ugly Friend
My senior year of college, I wound up living with two of my very dear, very good-looking friends: both around 5’9” with slender frames, toned arms, and long gorgeous hair. I’ll call them the Beautifuls. Within the first few months of living with them, I quickly realized my 5’2” rather blockish figure was not gonna turn any heads at social outings—at least not with the Beautifuls around. To keep what little self-esteem I had, I came up with the following 5-step plan:
Step 1. Become best friends and live with the Beautifuls.
Once you befriend them and gain the Beautifuls trust, they’ll eventually do you a few favors—especially if you live with them. Favors like letting you borrow cute outfits, getting you into more exclusive parties, giving you their free drinks. Living with them also gives you second-hand perks of the Beautifuls. When you host parties, very attractive people show up. Specifically men. Beautiful men. Bask in the beautiful.
Step 2. Be a good storyteller.
Although you may be friends with the Beautifuls, their attractive friends don’t exactly “get” you. You don’t look or act like them, so they’ll be hesitant to hold any conversation. Break through by telling stories about the Beautifuls to everyone: drunken adventures, quirky anecdotes, and that time they met Bon Iver at the Joynt.
Step 3. Be an amazing cook/baker.
Attempt to fatten them up. Every other month, bake a batch of incredible cookies, and offer some to the Beautifuls. Because they’re your friends, they’ll kindly accept one, but decline any more. Eat the rest of them by yourself while watching Parks and Rec on the couch.
Step 4. Find your quirk.
To stand apart in a positive way, find whatever makes you quirky or endearing that the Beautifuls don’t possess. Maybe you can quote every episode of 30 Rock, or maybe you can actually lick your elbow. My quirk is my height, apparently it makes me adorable. I can work with adorable.
Step 5. Be 21.
The best way to recoup and gain back some self-assurance is to get out of the house, away from the Beautifuls, and meet up at the bar with some normal-looking people. Pro tip: steer clear from bars where more Beautifuls gather. Instead, find that dive bar without a sign that only accepts cash and drink your face off.
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Will it feel the same when you tell me you love me over the phone? Will the peacefulness of those words still floor me from thousands of miles away?
I was conflicted. It felt like one eye was trying to look away while the other soaked it up. I felt the heat rise in my face. This was wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong.
Any nervous flyer knows the progression of descending panic: bile, sweaty palms, social awkwardness and self-induced sedation.
I know how it feels when the weight of darkness crashes down onto your chest in the middle of the night, and how you wish things would stop spinning because the axis seems tilted now. I know, love, I know.