Ladies and gentlemen, there is an epidemic among us.
This post isn’t nurturing. It’s not sisterly. It’s not politically correct. It is a rant. Consider yourself warned.
I hate the term thirsty, but lately, I’ve become partial to its older cousin of a synonym–dehydrated. So, it is the term I’ve appended to some women who are digging their way to any form of attention.
If there’s any pet peeve I have more than people who use comma splices, it is people who constantly need attention. Few things are more bothersome than someone who sucks all of the energy out of the room by unwaveringly acting out in search of attention. Unfortunately, because it is 2013 and we can’t stop binging on social media, dehydrated women have now find their way not only into my actual life, but also into my online life.
So, before I go bashing the vagina proprietors of the world, let me just say that as women, the influx of social cues are endless. It’s easy to lose ourselves in a sea of bandage dresses and foundation that looks like pudding spread across our faces. How we feel about ourselves can easily become a vitriolic equation of what men think, what other women say, and what Lena Dunham tweets. To say that life is not easy is an understatement and also a cliché, so pretend I never said it.
However, this is my first, last and final PSA to the women who are dehydrated for attention. This is for the women clogging up my news feed with selfies and my Twitter timeline with 140 character memorandums about the contours of your ass. Listen. You look ridiculous. You sound ridiculous. It’s time someone finally said something.
We all feel beyond uncomfortable watching you pose seven different ways in the middle of a coffee shop or on the Metro platform until you find the perfect pose for your “Good Morning, Beauties!” shot of the day. I never met a selfie I could take seriously which is precisely why I do not take serious selfies.
Then, there are the women who use Twitter as the ultimate platform to try and secure their future husband. Or maybe just their next coitus partner. I’m not exactly sure. Either way, we don’t care what kind of men you like. We don’t care about your height or occupation requirements for a significant other. We don’t care that you are getting your beach body tight and right. Twitter is not the place to discuss your sexual prowess, characteristics you want in a potential mate, or anything else that WE DON’T CARE ABOUT. They have something else for that. It’s called Craigslist.
We all like and crave attention, sometimes so much so that we fail to consider the source when we actually receive it. You don’t ever have to petition for attention. If you do, it’s not the attention you want nor is it from the right person. Sure, we all want someone to think we are the cat’s meow. We want and need other people to affirm our existence in this crazy life. Sometimes, we are all akin to screaming toddlers in the middle of a full-blown temper tantrum just wanting one person to show us some love. But, the best attention is born out of someone smitten with you simply being you. No airs. No effort. And, definitely no (serious) selfies.