The story you are about to read is not about me. Several elements of it resonate with me. This is probably why the girl who lived it and I are so close now. I love her, she deserves the world.
Good girls make good grades. Good girls don't go out often, or even at all. Good girls are virgins, if not, good girls have low body counts. What's a low body count? I'm glad you asked. If I am a young man and I'm doing the math: Subtract 2, carry the 1.....and you're left with -1. The answer is -1. A good girl's body count should be -1. Ahh good ole' nigga math.
A good girl is quiet. Low on social media. Low on campus. If she has a full ride, that's 10 extra points. Her own car? Super bonus. Money? Oh she's perfect.
I knew a good girl. She fit all those qualities. Full ride. Very low. You would rarely catch her at a typical college party. She had her own car, money, and a very good head on her shoulders. She was extremely smart, could have graduated early if she wanted. The perfect catch to bring home to mom and dad. THE good girl. A good boy's match. A fuck boy's prey.
Let's set the scene
It's Freshman year of college and our good girl has fallen prey to fuck boy #1, let's call him The Menace. He has her. She is his. Matters don't make the situation better that they have been together for years. High school sweethearts. Yeah, she was had. The Menace was controlling. At times verbally abusive. He was toxic. I strongly disliked this young man. For years he had pressured her to have sex with him. Give him her virginity. To her, she loved him. They had been together for years. She pictured a future with him. She was blind to the red flags. Blind to how he was destroying her, ruining her. She gave in. Her virginity was his.
To a fuck boy, a good girl is like a car. Value depletes once you drive her off the lot. This means that she was the most good with you and if she ever falls into the hands of another, her value has diminished. You had the best, no one else will ever have it that good. Her qualities were all the values we previously listed and now that her virginity was gone, well that was just like a small dent in a car. The car's not really broken, practically nothing is wrong, just a small dent. So why should I, the fuck boy, stop driving the car the way I do? You see, The Menace had no intention of handling our good girl with care. No desire to increase her value. He's not fueling her, revving her up, nothing. He's not keeping her top of the line. He's instead, picking on her weight, arguing with her, flirting with other girls. He's test driving Hondas when he has a Bentley in the garage.
Overtime that Bentley gets slower. Less likely to run full speed for our fuck boy driver. More quick to press the brakes on situations that aren't beneficial to her. More likely to turn on the air and cool a situation that once heated the entire vehicle to a point of complete meltdown. The good girl is transforming, she's realizing that if her man of YEARS wants Hondas and Toyotas, then she'll leave him to them, even though his budget can barely afford a bus ticket.
Freshman year of college taught her that though The Menace had his terrible moments, there were also moments of love that they shared. Your first love isn't always perfect, in fact, your first love may be one of the worst decisions of your life, but regardless, your first love above all else is your first love. On losing her virginity: Our good girl walked away from this relationship not wanting to have sex again. She didn't enjoy it at all. She enjoyed the closeness she felt rather than the actual act itself. That speaks volumes. In sex with The Menace she found comfort, but lacked satisfaction.
The ReUp
Months pass and our good girl is back with The Menace.
They are together at a party. Earlier that week she was with a friend in the cafe. Her friend spots her boyfriend. The friend's boyfriend is with a young man. Tall, dark, very popular on campus. They all exchange "heys" and go on about their days. Fast forward to the party. The tall, dark young man is present. We'll call him The Jumpoff. He's mysterious, yet kind of goofy. He keeps starring at her. So very much that her friend notices and taps her. "Girl do you see him, he won't stop starring at you!" "Well I have a boyfriend so he'll just have to keep starring." "You should get a new one, particularly the one who can't take his eyes off you." "He's a hoe." "Well maybe you need a hoe to loosen you up."
Months of fighting with The Menace did make the thought of someone else seem sweet in her mind. Is the grass really greener on the other side? The party continues, the attendees are now playing "Truth or Dare". The Jumpoff is asked. He chooses "Truth". He's asked "If you could ask any person dead or alive a question, who would it be and what would you ask?" He proceeds to say the good girl's name and asks for her number. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! She's nervous. She's embarrassed. She denies him and says she has a boyfriend.
Like any pricey car, if it is desired, it will be worked hard for.
Despite the good girl's rejection, The Jumpoff worked extremely hard to obtain her. Eventually she broke up with The Menace and The Jumpoff swooped in for the kill. She began to entertain the idea of him and her and so their story began.
In the midst of them being together, he crossed into a very social frat. Girls flocked to him, yet he wanted her.
We live in a time of maybes rather than yes's. Maybe you could be my girl, hell maybe another girl could. I don't want a commitment. I want to do me, but I want you to be all about me. Only sleep with me. Don't stray, don't falter. Meanwhile, I have no restrictions what so ever. I can do whatever. I'll be all about you for a week, maybe. Come over, we'll cuddle, I'll pamper you. I'll text you often, I'll make you feel like I'm all in, like I'm all about you. Then I'll go ghost for about a few weeks. Leave you confused and hurt. Then I'll pop back up. I'll apologize, I'll be sweet. I'll seem consistent, ready this time. Ready to make you mine. Ready to never leave you guessing, ready to make you my girl. Then once you relax, once you feel secure, I'll disappear again. And what can you do? I told you I wasn't ready from the jump. These girls you see me with in public? What can you say? They're public, you were hidden for a reason.
I'm in my prime. I'm popular. Successful in my frat. I have a name for myself. I have a persona to uphold. I just need you there when I get the sudden urge that I need you. I like you though. Do I?
Do I actually like you, or do I like the idea of you? The idea that you'll always be there. No matter what I do, I know I'll always have you. It's like I'm testing you. How long can I stay gone before you get fed up and leave? You'll never be sick of the games. When I grow up I'll be ready, but who knows when that will be? I can tweet that I'm ready for a relationship all day. I can scream it from the mountaintop. You'll be confused, because here you are sitting back waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting for something that won't come. I like you though. Do I?
How long should our good girl wait? The Jumpoff had introduced her to satisfaction. He showed her that sex was pleasurable. Sex with him was magnifying, powerful, a crescendo of perfection, desire, bliss.
She knew what is was. He wasn't ready. Was she? She had just gotten out of a relationship. Was that the path she wanted to go down again? As long as she maintained her good girl persona
The Jumpoff was fine. He neglected her, so he wasn't watching her. She was free. Free to do as she pleased. Play the role when he wanted to play you, and play him when he was off doing him. Comfort in his bed. Savage out of it.
Two can play that game and a good girl always plays it better. He wasn't just called The Jumpoff by coincidence. She had her moments of "Why am I still here?", but she played her role gracefully. She was strong. She was growing-whether she knew it or not. Eventually, like before, her engine just wouldn't rev up the same for The Jumpoff and one day she drove off his lot.
Like typical friends always do, they equate getting over someone as being with someone new. Premature match ups hinder your growth. The time testament of if you're ready to entertain someone again is when they fall out of the blue. No searching, no calling, just one day they're there, and suddenly you're ready. So the good girl's friend matches her up with a new young man, we'll call him The Good Boy. The Good Boy, had a crush on our good girl. He was nice. He treated her like a queen. He must be Heaven sent right? She just didn't feel the same. Would she eventually?
Do not force anything. Its 2017 at the time of this moment, not 1683 in Medieval Europe. Arranged marriages are not common. Therefore no one has to hope that love will eventually come into their relationship. If its not there its not there; and as progressive as we are as a people, it is better to get out sooner than later to spare both parties. Time will heal the party who was all in, just give it to them. We do our significant other a disservice by staying long after we know the situation is dead.
Our good girl tried, but a desire for The Good Boy never came and she left him. Throughout the midst of this fizzled flame, it should be noted that The Jumpoff realized what he had lost and was consistently trying to get back with the good girl. Persistence. Remember this word.
She played him off for a while, but the familiar is always more comfortable than the unknown. Maybe this time he was ready. They were both approaching graduation, maybe their time had finally come. Maybe. Maybe.
We live in a time of maybes instead of yes's.
Upon graduation, society expects one to be mature. To have a plan for their future. To have expectations for their life. But, it is a scientific fact that women mature sooner then men. Such was the case with our good girl and The Jumpoff.
He still wasn't ready. He had no expectations for his life. He wasn't mature and he for damn sure wasn't ready for the good girl.
She went back to him. They pretended like they were sophomores again. Going back in time when inconsistency was the norm. Nothing had changed. He would be all about her for at least a good week, then he'd be back to hopping around with his usual crowd. He was in his typical element. Ignoring her. Neglecting her.
For the umpteenth time, she walked away. But this time it was for good.
She moved on. She breathed. She reconnected with herself. She put aside all relationships that did her no good, friendships included. It's like once she got away from The Jumpoff everything shifted. She was afraid of change, but change was elevating her, moving her, allowing her to grow. She was moving through life. She had to break all ties. One day she texted him. The final text. The last nail in the coffin. She was leaving the situationship life in her college days and only accepting someone truly worthy of her in her future.
She let him have it.
She laid it all out. All of his inconsistencies.
"I am not an option. I am a choice. A decision. A commitment. I am not the go to when you're bored, or horny, or when you feel lonely. I am comfort, I am support. I can be a headache, but above all I am everything you need that you fail to see. It is no longer my responsibility to urge you to see my worth, and it is no longer my burden to try to see yours. I am tired of being confused. Tired of wondering if you're mine or not. Tired of playing "wife" when I can't even get called "girlfriend". Not having a title, meant that I was sharing with everyone else. I didn't like sharing as a child, but I did like bigger toys, I guess 7 year old me is trying to tell me something."
She walked away.
Isn't it funny that when we walk away from everything, everything we once knew, the familiar, that the unexpected happens. The good girl walked away. She worked on herself and out of the blue Mr. Perfect fell. Now I've caught you up to the present day of the good girl's story. Its still being written. She is happy. He's called Mr. Perfect for a reason. I am happy for her.
I don't want the gist of this story to be: Aww she was a sweet perfect girl who consistently got played and after all her trials and tribulations she finally found her Prince Charming and they lived happily ever after. That's cute. Maybe that's what some girls want. To be swept off their feet, to finally meet the one after putting up with so much bs. Yes the good girl finally met a guy who she felt was perfect for her, but my point of this story isn't that Mr. Perfect came in and saved her. Validated her. He wasn't the end game of this story. He's a nice bonus, but overall he's really irrelevant. All the young men in this story are honestly irrelevant. I wrote this for my friend to show her the lessons she learned. The strength she gained. The mistakes she made and to show her how beautiful she is. I love her because, after every heart break, she lived through. Every set back, she lived through. Every happy moment, she lived through. She grew. She validated herself without a young man. She removed herself from the familiar and chose herself.
You see, the true definition of a good girl is a smart girl. A strong girl. A wise girl. A girl who always chooses herself and never shies from what is good for her. Funny girls. Wild girls. Girls who love themselves. Those are good girls.