Brandon Vezmar, 37, who will be forever be remembered as one of the pettiest fuckboys of all time, is suing his Bumble date after she wouldn’t stop texting during Guardians Of The Galaxy 2. According to KVUE, the suit states that it’s not so much about being reimbursed as it is about the fact that “the Defendant’s behavior is a threat to civilized society.” 

Can you countersue someone for having no chill? Asking for an unnamed Bumble woman I’ve never met.

According to Brandon The Petty, he clearly told his date her texting was “driving a little nuts” to which she rightfully responded “I can’t not text my friend,” and continued texting.

Honestly I’ve never been more on anyone’s side in my entire life.

Apparently, Unnamed Bumble Woman found out about the suit when American Statesman called her for comment, to which she responded, “Oh my god. This is crazy.”

Again, a 100% appropriate reaction from Unnamed Bumble Woman.

So how much money is Brandon looking for his troubles? $17.31. The price of a movie ticket, and probably .000001% of what it cost Brandon to meet with a lawyer about this for even one minute. 

While of course Brandon will not win this lawsuit in any way shape or form (TBH I imagine the judge is going to laugh him out of the courtroom), this does have the potential to set a very dangerous precedent. What’s next? Getting sued for the price of your side salad for table texting about your date’s Axe body spray? Being subpoenaed for helping your friend get out of a disastrous date by calling and saying there’s an “emergency?” Finding out there’s a search warrant out for you because you ghosted? 

Are we going to have to like, pay attention to our shitty dates now? This is how we get The Handmaid’s Tale, people.

After what we assume was a thorough roasting of Brandon in Unnamed Bumble Woman’s group chat, she released the following statement:

“I did have a very brief date with Brandon, that I chose to end prematurely. His behavior made me extremely uncomfortable, and I felt I needed to remove myself from the situation for my own safety. He has escalated the situation far past what any mentally healthy person would. I feel sorry that I hurt his feelings badly enough that he felt he needed to commit so much time and effort into seeking revenge. I hope one day he can move past this and find peace in his life.”

Wow. Honestly, I love Unnamed Bumble Woman. Her response literally hit every passive-aggressive tactic in the book, and I am living for it. In just one paragraph she:

1. Questioned Brandon’s very questionable mental health.
2. Said she felt sorry for him.
3. Pointed out how much time and effort his weird revenge plot actually will take.
4. Made him sound like a complete and total tool with no life.
5. Wished him peace in his life.

And she even fit in an “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” Girl is on fire. Honestly I’d go to a movie with Unnamed Bumble Woman any day. The only way that she could have knocked this out of the park more was if she started the paragraph off saying she wasn’t 100% sure on who Brandon was, and ended it by thanking her fans for support.

According to The Telegraph, Brandon and Local Hero Unnamed Bumble Woman met up and she gave him the money and he agreed to drop the suit, adding that “he would donate the money to charity.” All $17 of it. Oh, I’m sorry, and 31 cents. Just in case you had any doubts that it was not about the money, but about what this neckbeard thinks he was “owed” by a woman who dared to go on a date with him without fucking him or even pledging her lifelong devotion to him immediately afterward. The audacity of that woman! 

We wish Unnamed Bumble Woman all the luck in the world with her dating life, and hope to see her texting with full brightness in a movie theatre soon. As for Brandon, I think I speak for all Bumble users when I say: delete your account. 

We all know astrology is kind of bullshit. I mean, we’ll buy cute stuff related to our zodiac sign and blame mercury in retrograde for all of life’s problems, but when push comes to shove, we all know that the position of the stars at the time of your birth has nothing to do with the person that you become. 

…Or do we? 

A new study out of the European College of Neuropsychopharmacology (say that five times fast) suggests that the season in which you were born actually does have an affect on your personality. Wait, so you’re saying all those times my college roommate tried to justify the fact that she blacked out and got a face tattoo (again) by saying that “Scorpios are naturally attracted to transformation,” she might have actually been onto something? Well, not quite. But also like, sure Amanda, whatever makes you feel good about that star above your eyebrow. 

In the study, researcher Xenia Gonda asked 366 university students to fill out a questionnaire targeted at “four kinds of temperments they most personify.” She asked them to identify with statements like “My mood often changes for no reason” (yes, especially when watching reality television) and “I love to tackle new projects, even if it’s risky” (does giving Tai a makeover count?) and “I complain a lot” (ugh I hate how people are always asking me questions…) and then correlated their answers to their birthdays. Turns out, Gonda found a legit connection between the season during which you were born and your ability to be a functioning human in society. So next time you see your parents, be sure to mention that their inability to wait until August to bone is the reason that you need such a heavy Adderall prescription. That’ll go over well. 

Specifically, Gonda found that people born in the summer had much higher instances of “Cyclothymic Temperment,” meaning they’re more likely to have mood swings, even when they’re not on their period. Both spring and summer babies showed a tendency toward “Hyperthymic temperment” which basically means being excessively positive, so I guess most nice girls were born in the spring. No wonder they’re always wearing so many colors. Disgusting. 

People born in the winter were significantly less suceptible to mood swings, which is a pretty good tradeoff for the fact that nobody ever comes to your birthday party because your friends are all cold AF and suffering from seasonal depression. Fall babies, by comparison, “show significantly lower tendency toward depressive temperment than those born in winter.” So next time your friend with a September birthday tells you she’s upset, tell her that’s fucking impossible and switch the convo back to your own winter baby problems. 

Jokes aside, this is a pretty huge discovery. If this turns out to be true, next thing you know your cousin who can’t stop talking about how she and her husband are “trying” (Just say “fucking,” Amberly…) will be coordinating her ovulation cycle with the seasons to ensure that she has a non-psycho child. All the more reason to go to your local Planned Parenthood, ladies. Because the only thing worse than having an unwanted child, is having an unwanted child mid-summer so that it ruins your beach bod and the rest of your life because it’s psycho. 

But it’s not all bad, summer babies. At least now you have a foolproof, scientific justification for the fact that you ruined beach week because you saw a photo of your ex and some girl on Instagram and drove your car into a sand dune. If you were a winter baby and did that shit, you’d have no excuse. 

Dear Chauvinistic Assholes,

I’ve been seeing a very, very unfortunate trend in modern millennial dating in which guys throw out the terms “crazy”, “psycho”, or “stage 5 clinger” when a girl so much as texts him to be like, “Hey u up?”. News fucking flash: It’s 2018. You know what’s really “crazy”? Here’s a refresher, losers.

• Donald Trump being the goddamn President of the United States
• ZAYN leaving One Direction and his last name in the dust (RIP)
• North Korea lauching missiles … YES THAT IS HAPPENING
• Permanent freckle tattoos. Somebody please tell me why that is even a thing.
• This little thing called ISIS and global terror—ever heard of it?

I hope that puts things into perspective for you. Trying to communicate and show positive interest and affirmation (aka, texting you 1-2 times a week) doesn’t make a girl “thirsty” or “insane.” It makes her a normal fucking person—and BTW, you should feel #blessed that a betch is into you in the first place.

Of course, there are real “stage 5 clingers” out there, both men and women. Case in point: My (female) best friend once met a perfectly nice, cute guy in a bar. They exchanged numbers and went on one date which was pretty okay. Next thing she knew, she’d be looking at her Instagram notifications and he’d be tagging her in AT LEAST SIXTEEN posts per day. He’d send her paragraphs and paragraphs at a time, Snapchat her twenty times a day, and even put a down payment on a puppy that she mentioned she wanted, assuming they would raise it together when their one mediocre dinner date turned into a fruitful marriage. (He actually raises the puppy alone now because obviously she had to ghost him.) Does this guy warrant a “crazy” label? Absolutely. But unless you can honestly say that every girl you’re calling “crazy” acts like this—in which case, you have bigger problems, like why you’re a magnet for the mentally unstable—then it’s time to reassess your vocab.

There is a very problematic, gendered paradox when it comes to men and women in romantic relationships. For example, T-Swift gets called “crazy” all the time for writing songs about her exes. When Robin Thicke wrote and performed Paula, AN ENTIRE ALBUM that was a desperate plea for his ex-wife Paula Patton to take him back after he got caught cheating, it was dubbed by the media as “a heartfelt reconciliation”. WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?

Bottom line, the word “crazy” is a convenient term for men, and an often discriminatory word for women. Some men (#notallmen, wouldn’t want you to get too butthurt) simply throw out the term because it’s easier than getting down and dirty with their real emotions and addressing real issues within their relationships in a healthy way. So, next time you’re about to call a betch crazy, boys, think before you speak. It’s like, the rules of feminism.

Not your BSCB,

The Betches