You can kick it with the boys!

You’re chill, laidback, and probably love man things like sports. You don’t make a big deal about stupid shit like making markedly less money for doing the same work as your male counterparts.

You have a personality.
Other girls don’t. They have no personality. They aren’t funny and they have no hobbies or interests to speak of. Other girls might have good handwriting. But that’s also why they’ll never be doctors.

You love to eat food.
Unlike other girls who don’t eat, you love burgers and fries and shakes and chicken fingers. You eat them all day. Which is wild. Because you’re teeny tiny. And you don’t poop.

You exhibit no human bodily functions.
In addition to the not pooping thing, you don’t fart, or pee or grow hair anywhere other than from the top of your head. You’re like a taxidermy naked mole rat wearing a wig.

You’re not like the other girls he knows.
He knows his mom, his sister, and his second cousin who he made out with last Thanksgiving. And you’re not like any of them. You’re totally different and don’t share any DNA.

In other words, you’re an individual.
He’s met literally every girl out there and can tell you with complete certainty, they’re all identical. For him, interacting with other girls is like being the protagonist in a zombie apocalypse horror movie. They’re all lifeless, unemotional, decaying, and violently trying to eat his brains. It’s terrifying. But you’re not like that.

You know how you’re also not like a zombie? You love sex.
You were a virgin before you met him and now you need to have it all the time. And he’s so good at what he does! You’re in perfect sync because, just like him, it takes you three pumps to finish. No hands, no foreplay, no nothing.

You also had a lesbian phase, but it’s super nonthreatening.
It meant nothing! It wasn’t even a phase, really, just a kiss between two hot, straight women. And most importantly, she’s dead now.

Also, your friends are all empowering women.
They help you get ready to go on dates and support the narrative that you need a man to feel any sense of worth!

Similarly, you have zero male friends.
You don’t talk to other men. Not ever. Not your father or your brother or any of the men that sit in your office cubicle. You don’t even see men. You’re incapable of registering their existence. And when they get too close, you’ve been known to vomit in your purse.

You’re not like other girls because, he loves only you.
He’s never loved another girl, not even his mother, his sister, or that cousin he made out with that one time.

And what is love if not being told that you’re special because you are unlike other girls?
It’s not love, that’s what.

You’re actually not even a girl.
You’re more likely a blow-up doll. Or a parakeet.