Sexual harassment is bad for so many reasons. It holds women back in the workplace, it leads us to feel uncomfortable in our own skin, it perpetuates the idea that women are objects. Still, there’s one major consequence of sexual harassment no one is talking about. Because we’re constantly thinking about feminism, I now bond with every woman I meet.

This isn’t a bad thing, except the laws of womanhood dictate that every time I meet another woman, we have to swap our stories of sexual harassment and ultimately drink each other’s blood.

Has anybody else doubled their number of female friends in the last few months? Every time a story breaks about sexual harassment, I become best friends with the closest female in my vicinity. We learn that Rob Porter beats his wives and suddenly the woman behind me at the coffee shop and I are making plans for yoga the next day. This is absolutely exhausting for me because I can’t afford yoga and my calves are so tight. Another thing that makes yoga difficult is that I’ve slit my wrists to let the woman drink my blood, and now I’m lightheaded.

AB+? Elaine gave me that because Louis CK masturbated in front of a bunch of people.

I tried to throw a party last weekend, and yikes, that crowd was not going to fit in my one bedroom apartment. 6 months ago, I had 14 close friends. Now I have a new female friend for each new famous man accused of sexual harassment, which means I have about 178 friends. True friends. Friends who I can talk to about that coworker who stared at my chest or spoke over me. Friends I can bond with about the agony of being a woman. And they’re more than just friends – they’re also like sisters to me. Blood sisters.

Because we drank each other’s blood.

The coven of womanhood is so strict. I’ve given out way more hugs to passersby than I ever wanted. I also now have a shit-ton of random blood floating around in my body. A-? That was from Tricia when we learned Matt Lauer had that button under his desk. AB+? Elaine gave me that because Louis CK masturbated in front of a bunch of people. O-? From Sandra after Aziz Ansari, although we slit our wrists slowly on this one because the debate was unfolding as we did so. But now I’m godmother to her children. Fuck you, Aziz. Nonverbal cues are real, and so was that salty, salty B+ blood.

I don’t want to act like I’m ungrateful for these female friendships. Truly, it’s so kind of men to bring us together by treating us like shit. If not for men, what would I even talk to my female friends about? That’s what the Bechdel Test is, right? Two women can’t have a conversation with each other for too long before they admit they’ve been sexually harassed. I only wish I didn’t have to befriend absolutely every woman I meet. It just becomes exhausting to constantly relive the pain of sexual harassment by sharing these stories over and over.

Also, I’m tired of drinking blood, and I’m becoming severely anemic.