The "But" Girl

My father recently educated me on the “but” person we all meet in life. You know, the one who is a wonderful person, but they like to run over stray animals. They have a great personality, but they steal out of tip jars. They would give you the shirt off their back, BUT they happen to be a compulsive liar. If you have to add “but” into the description of someone, you are probably fishing for a way to make them seem less depraved, even if they are just that. In my opinion, the “but” individual is an iron chain holding others from progressing. 

Why all the hostility towards people with huge personal flaws? Because I recently put all my faith and trust (not to mention all my money on the line) for one. I am planning on moving to New York City this year with two of my best friends (we will name them Brandy and Sherry), and a new girl (Cognac) introduced to the group by Brandy. Cognac is very distantly related to Brandy. Completely trusting Brandy, I wanted to accept this new girl into the group like she was family. After all, Brandy allowed the new girl to stay in her apartment when she had no where else to go, and paid for a New York trip to attempt some early apartment-hunting. 

Cognac and the group happened to have a lot in common and she made a great drinking buddy, BUT, as I came to find out later, this girl was a selfish, klepto leech who sucked all the positivity out of the room. Not only did she stay rent-free at Brandy’s apartment, while devouring all her food and stealing her make-up, she ditched Brandy in New York, after she bought her plane ticket and paid for cabs, to run around Time Square by herself. This girl left a revolting taste in my mouth, to say the least.

The final straw was when Brandy found an apartment on her own and had to put down a nonrefundable $1300 for the deposit. Cognac decided the best time to let Brandy know that she had absolutely no money to contribute was after Brandy had already handed over the check. A few more events followed, and the whole situation ended with Cognac saying she was going to live with her aunt and wished Brandy luck with rent, but not before calling her an anxiety-ridden, only-child-syndrome bitch.

I. Was. Fuming. This now ex-roommate had fucked with my family and put all my savings on the line (I wasn’t going to let Brandy end up on the streets of New York, and I was willing to pay to keep it that way.) Since Sherry and I were leaving six months after her, we wanted to give Brandy a proper send off with a Florida Bucket List Day (a holiday I made up that consisted of nothing but drinking) to celebrate all Florida had to offer (alcohol). It was during this made up holiday, we began to really break down everything we hated about this girl.

We ranted and raved about Cognac for a solid hour. As the champagne bubbles from our mimosas began to outnumber our blood cells, all the “buts” went out the window, and we reverted to the kind of name-calling even I wouldn’t fucking repeat.

By the end of Florida Bucket List Day, I was positive, if Brandy couldn’t punch Cognac in the face, she would at least scatter the belongings she left at her apartment in dumpsters all over the city. I wanted the three of us to assist karma in doing her job.  

The next morning, as I dragged my aching, water-deprived limbs to work, I got a surprising, if not sobering text. Apparently, once Brandy could see straight again, she decided it wasn’t a good idea to test karma’s patience. She had contacted Cognac to let her know she could pick up her stuff off the side of the street corner, if she felt she deserved it. (She felt she did.)  

I am not one for petty revenge, but this girl was a special case. The rage I had accumulated towards her had festered and multiplied, and I wanted nothing more than to drag her, her name, and her belongings through the mud. She fucking deserved it. But Brandy felt she was above that kind of behavior, and felt a single girl in the city needed all the good karma she could get.

While I genuinely applaud her for being the better person (I couldn’t have fucking done it), it made me question the way we all respond to the worst of humanity and the way we treat each other. At what point should someone stop trying to be the bigger person? At what point does the bad outweigh the good so much, that retaliation is not only okay, but should be encouraged? The world is an ugly place filled with ugly people, why should only good people be the ones who get fucked over? 

Almost every child was grew up with some variation of the rule “do onto others, as you would have others do onto you,” but there are some situations in life where this seems incorrectly applied. How many peaceful protestors need to be assaulted before a counterattack is seen as a defense and not terrorism? How many innocent people need to die in genocide before citizens can throw their own bombs? How many times does a kid need to be bullied in school before they can throw their own punches? At what point should you just burn a bitch’s clothes instead of giving them back without any sort of repayment or thank you?  

Maybe self-preservation should be the determining factor of whether one should be the bigger person. When someone’s livelihood, safety or family is at risk, there is a natural instinct to protect these assets; if the instinct to protect what you love becomes apparent, should one fight fair? 

While I grind my teeth thinking about it, I don’t believe a person needs to fight fair. I am someone who unconditionally believes in justice for all, and if the only way to get true justice is to throw a low blow, why should anyone stop themselves? (This kind of thinking can only be applied on a case-by-case basis.)  Overall, in life, I encourage everyone to take the high road, but DAMMIT! Some people need a good right hook to the jaw.

“Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

― Ernest Hemingway