How to Help Your Friends Find Better Lovers
Are you sabotaging your friends instead of helping them?
I’m obsessed with being liked—me and Sally Field. If I ever won an award, I’d stand on the podium and squeal, “You liked me. You really liked me.” It’s programmed into my DNA. Ask my programmer. Sally Field is my spirit animal.
Yet, I always tell friends and anyone who’s listening, “I don’t care if people like me. Screw’m. I am who I am.” That’s my first lie.
I have cultivated my entire identity around being liked. Have you met me? I’m delightful. I have no idea what my real personality is, but it might be this one. Who knows? It’s like squatters' rights. I’ve been acting the part so long, maybe this personality belongs to me.
People have described me as “that friendly woman,” “that funny woman,” “that bitch” and “who the fuck does she think she is?” Being likable gets me invited places. People laugh at my jokes. Strangers smile at me cause they can tell I’m a hoot.
If I were an escort, I think my Johns would be satisfied with my engaging conversation skills — they wouldn’t even expect sex. They would be like, “oh my god. I don’t need to use your body. Your mind and wonderful personality are enough. You are enough!”
