While you'd never know it since we spend most of our time with the same 5-7 besties anyway, betches are very high in demand. If it’s 10 PM on a Friday and you don’t have at least 2 invitations to casually turn down, then you might as well stay home and read Lean In.
Despite this popularity, betches are very cautious about expanding their friendship circles. However sometimes we'll accidentally #159 drunk bond with someone and somehow managed to be so fakely delightful that before we know it, we made another aquaintance. Oops!
For example, on an average betch’s night it’s totally normal to have a blackout conversation like this with some girl you half-know: “OMG. You like margaritas!? So do I! Ok, you and me: margs tomorrow. This is happening.”
No, it’s not. You’re going to forget all about this conversation, and the girl you had it with, the minute you get your next vodka soda. As for actually following through on those plans later, ha fucking ha.
Thankfully, most people seem to understand this. They take our fake-niceness at face value and realize that any drunk heart to hearts and/or plans we made were probably the result of that fifth round of Fireball shots. You think this fake friend is a thing of your past until one day you get a text from the girl you drunkenly chatted with like “heyyy girl! I hear there’s half off margs at Pedro’s tonight. You free?” or worse “Had so much fun last night. Lets get together ASAP!”
Ohhh fuck. This girl actually thinks you’re friends (TYF).
Let’s clarify something: when dealing with the TYF, the annoying part is not that she wants to be friends with you (duh…because if that were the criteria we’d be annoyed with like, most people). Instead, the TYF is annoying because she just never goes away. No matter how many times you don’t respond to the 60+ snap chats she sends you or how many “fuck off” glances you give while her sober, this girl just doesn’t get it.
She also doesn’t give you enough reason to hate her, or even to confront her, without looking like a HUGE bitch. Instead of getting all of this over and done with, the situation with the TYF can go on for weeks, like a delicate dance that makes you cringe every time you open your phone and see her message from three hours ago that you never even opened, because in your distorted mind this makes you feel like she knows you haven't read it.
*Side note: the worst kind of TYF will always be a guy friend’s hook up. Make one small drunken gesture, like letting her back-cut you in the line for the bathroom, and all of a sudden this psycho’s bombarding you with questions like you’re her new BFF. “Do you think he likes me? Why is he ignoring me? Do you ever see him with other girls?” Ok…A) No, B) Because you’re annoying and C) Yes. He’s the #146 shared guy and is leaving with my roommate while you continue to interrogate me.
Best-case scenario: the TYF finally gets it and leaves you alone. Worst-case scenario: she sticks around and eventually wiggles her way to becoming the new dud of your bestie group. Hopefully it’s the former and you can look back on this as a valuable lesson on the importance of #107 not branching out.