Most of my friends (male, female, gender neutral alike) have been physical with each other in some capacity. If I made a map of who’s kissed, touched, sucked, licked, flicked, tickled who in the last, let’s say, 8 years, it would be a cluster fuck of a web with lots of squiggles and dotted lines. That’s just the culture we live in. Throw in some theatre school nerds, guys with guitars and other artists and you have a recipe for Hook Up Disaster (read: Confusion)
The rules have changed people. But I’m not quite sure what they are.
How much time needs to past before you hook up with the same guy your friend used to hook up with?
And at what level of hook up is said hook up crossing the line?
Does someone get to call dibs on someone they were never really dating?
And who dates anymore anyway?
What constitutes a date? Dinner and a movie? Grabbing beers after a show? Hanging out at the theatre’s bar after rehearsal? Meeting for coffee on a Sunday afternoon?
I do all of these things on a regular with people I’d love to bang or have been banging and I’m not sure if it means anything. At all.
If you’re like me, you can quote the majority of Clueless, all of Mean Girls, and you still remember some of those Cosmopolitan quizzes your friends used to make you take. All of those beacons of adolescence tells us that you do not under any fucking circumstance ever in the world hook up with a friend’s ex.
“It’s like the rules of feminism”.
But nowadays, the line of who’s dating who is so blurred that it’s hard to know what factors go in to classifying someone as your ex.
Is it the amount of time you’ve known each other?
The amount of times you’ve been inside each other?
The exchanging of those dreaded three words “I love you”
Whether or not the other person cared about you? And whether or not those feelings were mutual.
These are all honest to god questions that are ping ponging in my head. So I’m going to take it upon myself as Single Girl #2 in Chicago to set the New Rules of Girl Code in 2014.
(HINT: There’s not many)
Rule #1: Dibs doesn’t really work anymore. Like a sad stroller in a parking spot in Logan Square, people are just gonna think you’re a douche if you claim it.
Rule #2: Cosmopolitan Magazine is no longer allowed to dictate our relationship choices. EVER. AGAIN.
Rule #3: But Clueless is definitely still on the table.
So that’s where I stand so far. Any insight?