Admit it — we’ve all done something we’re not proud of. Maybe you’ve never said it out loud, but we all have the capacity to be cruel. The Bad Girlfriend is a friend of ours who we love for being trustworthy and smart, funny and exceedingly loyal…to her girlfriends, that is. But boyfriends? That’s another story. We pity the fools who end up on her arm — give it a few months, a year, even three, and suddenly they won’t know what hit ‘em. We don’t expect you to love her, but we do expect that you may, begrudgingly, see a bit of yourself in her bad deeds.
I admit it; I’m a bad girlfriend. I’ve lied, cheated, and stolen from my boyfriends. Still, I always learn a valuable lesson after each new breakup. I was living in L.A., going to school during the day and waiting tables at night. I had a sweet boyfriend, whom I’d been dating for about a year. He was the nicest guy in the world. Funny, smart, a good cook…and, well, very down to earth. Crunchy, almost. But I really loved him and was being a very good girlfriend at the time. But then I started a new job at a really fancy place where the martinis cost $15 and people like Nicolas Cage were regulars. I had to wear a short black dress and I was making a lot of money just slinging bar food and drinks. It was fun, and my boss, the manager, was cool. He was tall and good-looking, and wore dark power suits every night as he schmoozed and mingled with the rich and elite. I couldn’t help but be a little bit attracted to him. Still, I was already attached to the nice guy. Sometimes I would catch the boss stealing glances at me throughout the night, and I have to admit, soon I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
One night, on my day off, I went out with my two best friends and had a lot of dirty martinis. We ended up at a strip club, where I wound up on stage, stripping. (Bad idea numero uno.) I thought it would be a fine idea to call my boss and ask him to meet me for even more drinks — which then ended up being at his place. My clothes landed on the floor for the second time that night. Oops. I had a lot of explaining to do to the nice boyfriend, who finally bought my story that I had just crashed at a pal’s place. But once I was back at work, the boss started dropping notes on my tray that said things like, “Can’t wait to be with you again,” and “You look so hot in that dress.” Shortly thereafter, I ended up humping him in his office halfway through my shift. Oops again. I ended things with the nice guy and started regularly sleeping with the sexy guy in power suits. (Who, when not in power suits, turned out to be totally immature and weird. He had a fetish for cartoon porn. Seriously.) So I decided to call things off with him too. He must not have took that well, since he fired me. There went all the money I’d been making — but that wasn’t the end of it.
I decided I was ready to move from LA anyway, and go to NYC. So I took all my savings, hopped a flight, and landed in the city. About two weeks later, I got a call from the boss. “They transferred me to NYC,” he told me. “Let’s have drinks.” I agreed, and when we met up he broke down sobbing and said, “I moved here for you! Now we can be together!” Oh boy, did that guy turn out to be a total psycho. I peeled him off me, calmly explained that I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, and left him wiping his eyes and went back to my new apartment. Later that night, I awoke to someone poking me and calling my name. I opened my eyes and there he was, hovering over me. He’d somehow managed to scale the fire escape and open the unlocked window. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” he asked. I nearly crapped my pants. I knew he wasn’t going to harm me, but breaking and entering?! I almost called the cops, but in the end, I just kicked him out. I moved into a new apartment a few weeks later, and after about a year, finally stopped getting daily phone calls from him.
So here is my lesson learned: Always keep your windows locked at night and NEVER sleep with someone you work with. It is going to turn out bad. Yes, some people meet that way and get married, blah, blah, blah — I don’t buy it. Don’t go there! In the end, it’s only going to cost you your job and you may just have to move. Twice. Oh, also? Guys in power suits are never what they seem.