As we’ve stated several times, #50 guy friends don’t really exist for betches. With the exception of your GBFF, there’s always that underlying tension that arises from guys pretending they want to be your friend to mask the fact that they’re in love with you. Today, we bring you the exception to that rule. The doorman.
No, we’re not talking about a hotel doorman or a club bouncer, we’re talking about your apartment doorman who has more inside information on your life than the fucking NSA.
When a betch moves out of her dad’s house, her doorman plays the new role of her new dad/bff/keeper of secrets. When he’s not dragging your luggage into a taxi or assigning some apartment complex bitch to deliver your dry cleaning, he’s racking up a large inventory of facts about your life that only he is privy to. That’s because he’s the only one that knows about the guy you brought home for the kiss and cuddle, the packages that you still shadily get from Proactiv, and the time you were so drunk that you had to be carried into your elevator because you fell asleep on the couches in the lobby. If you had a sponsor, your doorman would be it.
He has all the intimate knowledge of a best friend and he remembers your night far better than you do. Like a creepy ethnic uncle that you tip every Christmas, your doorman was the only one who’d listen as you drunkenly went on about how your ex-boyfriend was the ‘fucking worst’ or your friend Julie ‘really needs to lose five pounds’. Sure, this might be because it’s his job to not move from the door from 2-6 am but you’re positive he’s listening to your intimate secrets by choice. Let's look at a few different types of doormen and what we can learn to expect:
The Ethnic Guy: He'll will speak to you and try and tell you that you have a flower delivery but you will just nod because you have no idea what the fuck he just said. This only becomes an issue when you're trying to put in a work request and wind up having your blinds uninstalled rather than the air conditioing fixed like you requested.
The Old Guy: He gets away with the fact that it takes him 45 minutes to pull the door open because he's just that adorable. Despite the fact that you have no heart there are few betches who don't feel a light amount of guilt at watching someone their great grandfather's age struggle to revolve a self-revolving door.
The Asshole: This guy has some strange inexplicable bitterness about his position and feels the need to take it out on you. He's the one constantly calling you out on your loud music, giving your visiting friends a more intense interrogation than in Zero Dark 30, and sneering at your slutty Saturday night outfits. Whatever bro, I'm not the one who chose this job for you. Focus your anger on the handyman, my angry frenemy.
So betches, be nice to your doormen. No betch would ever be so ungrateful as to forget the Advil she had couriered over from Duane Reade by her bestie in uniform. Everyone who’s seen Game of Thrones knows that being on the Night Watch isn’t easy. He may be a doorman, DOORMAN, but until you move to a chic walk-up in the West Village or become mature enough to not get complaints for blasting music at 6 am, your doorman will remain the only bestie who doesn't judge you for that time you ordered Seamless three times in one day.