Here at Galore, we don’t believe in the friend zone when it comes to guys thinking girls owe them sex in exchange for their friendship. Still, we’ve had girls convince us of the unbelievable: that the female species can get trapped in the friend zone, too. Below, one writer meditates on what it’s like to be everybody’s backup.
Hello, my name is back burner bitch.
I am a shelter for the wounded and broken. I love them back to health until they’re ready to meet someone new that they value, and then I’m an unanswered text message as my emotions become uncomfortable.
I am the harbinger of insincere apologies for lack of validation while the person I fixed gets ready to be the best he can be for the next person after me. I may be saved in your phone under “best friend” with a message thread full of “thank you’s” and “I miss you’s” as I am a receptacle of emotional validation and advice.
You may also know me as “I didn’t mean to fall for her it just happened, hopefully we can still be friends” or “I still got mad love for you, I hope you can understand” or “what would you expect me to do?” I am the expendable one, the one whose feelings don’t really matter because “she can take it.”
I’m the favorite t-shirt you now give to company to sleep in when they visit. I’m an ol’ Reliable who always ends up Old Yellered. My advice now relayed to others as original thoughts because I’m invisible to even those who swore they’d see me.
I’m that old medication in your grandmother’s cabinet, used to keep her alive until she didn’t have that illness anymore. I’m the junk food in the back of your refrigerator collecting freezer burn as you’ve changed your diet. The lab you send your unwanted Pokemon to when you need to make room for the ones you actually wanna catch.
My life is where time goes to be wasted by people until they decide I know too much and they want better. I’m here to talk on the phone for four hours to console the same friend that no longer wants or needs me in their life.
I’m the “I love you, but I love her more” girl. I’m the [insert excuse to justify how I was your soulmate and now someone else is] girl. I’m the “it’s still new, anything could happen, stop your life and wait to see” girl. I’m the “you’ll always have a space in my heart” girl. I’m the “maybe one day we can be together, after this” girl, I’m the “I love you too, just not enough to put you first” girl.
I watch you struggle with frustration as the women you seek breathe karma into your life, as you cry about the things they’ve done to you while inflicting the same pain on me. As you become friend-zoned and I become convenient. The one you can talk to when things don’t go your way.
Am I the frozen pizza you keep in the fridge in the event you can’t buy lunch for work? Am I your Walmart brand contour kit you bought before realizing Sephora’s was of better quality? I’m who police call when the suspect opens fire, I’m the backup bitch.
I’ve recently experienced the semi-new millennial dating phenomenon that’s leaving me with a blow to my fragile ego – ghosting. It isn’t totally new, and it happens everyday to the baddest of bitches, but it still threw me way off guard. If you’re behind on lingo, “ghosting” is a term used for when the person
It’s honestly cringey af most times you step foot in a sex shop – the employees are usually clueless and unhelpful, and you leave feeling almost dirty about trying to enjoy one of life’s greatest pleasures (Aka sex. Keep up, here). I’d love to go buy a sex toy in-store without feeling like I was
Hi there! *taps on mic* We’re all familiar with sex *points at no one in particular* she gets it. Did you know that sex is a really fun thing that a lot of people enjoy? But you can’t have sex all the time, because then when would you eat, or watch “Viceland,” or read Galore
Bawse Kitty is a lifestyle contributor who writes about sex, dating, being a woman, and more. This is her column, Kitty’s Korner. Throughout my blogging, I have taken many breaks, and have also gone through many streaks. Blogging is how I’ve gotten most of my following, and how I have been able to remain relatable to