The Kind of Girl Who … gets all up in yo' drama

NTKOG #46: The kind of overbearing know-it-all who takes it upon herself to get all Dear Abby on any passerby.

I am: an avid, slavering observer in the grand theatre of life, that much is true. But a participant? Not so much.

I am not: even all that great at giving life advice to myself – let alone a hapless stranger.

The Scene: Friday night, walking from my sister’s place to my own. It is 11pm and I am the only sober person under the age of 28 in Brighton. Which is to say. I am the only sober person in Brighton.

I’m walking fast, music blaring through the ubiq earbuds, when I pass a pizza shack, in front of which two bros (really, verging even on brahs) are leaning, both looking cold, one staring intensely at his iPhone. Suddenly, as I am only a few feet away, the non-phone bro jams his hamfist in the other’s face and shouts:

“DUDE, DON’T FUCKING TEXT HER!!”

So. Obviously this is a thing I must pursue. I turn around and de-bud, and non-phone guy immdiately apologizes, then jokes, “Yeah, I was yelling that at you!” Which confuses me further.

TKOG: But wait, what did you say? Did you just tell him not to fucking text her?
Non-Phone Brah: Oh, no, I said: “You fucking better.”
TKOG: Ohhh, I thought you were coaching him through a bad break-up and I was like, yeah, seriously, don’t text her, dude.
NPB: No, I just wanted my jacket back. He better get it back.
TKOG: So there’s like not even a girl involved? I’m disappointed.
NPB: There actually kind of is. I lent him my jacket last night then he hooked up with this chick and she borrowed it and I want my fucking jacket back.
TKOG: You’re a good friend. Okay, so how are you getting the jacket back?
Phone Guy: I’m texting her to go pick it up.
TKOG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Dude, don’t fucking text her.
PG: Why not?
TKOG: I mean, it sounds like you’re not like seeing each other. You guys friends? Friends of friends?
PG: She works with my cousin. We’ve hooked up like twice.
TKOG: Okay, and are you planning on hooking up with her again?
PG: Eh.
TKOG: Dude. Dude. You cannot just text her at 11 on a Friday night. She’s got plans with her friends and she’s going to end up getting all cute so you can come over and pick up your friggin’ jacket, because she’ll think you want to hook up, but actually you’re just hanging out with this guy all night.
PG: Seriously?
TKOG: Oh, most seriously. Don’t do it tonight. That’s an asshole move. Text her tomorrow morning and pick it up during the day. Like, seriously.
NPB: But what about my fucking jacket?
TKOG: Uh, yeah, your friend should be paying for rounds until you’re drunk enough that you’re not cold.
PG: That’s kind of funny. That might be good advice.

Then the ill-advised jacket lender asked where I was headed, to which I could only think, um, away from these fratty boys and their debauched weekend of jacket swapping. Obvi.

The Verdict: So, regardless of whether the guys followed my advice — or even whether said advice was actually sound? — this was a pretty funny and enjoyable exchange. I mean, obviously context is key. Couple arguing heatedly outside of Planned Parenthood? Yeah, I’ll skip that drama. Pleasant and fairly sober undergrads shouting at their cell phones? Dude, pretty okay way to pass a few minutes.

Tagged as: advice, brighton, brosef stalin, dear abby, drinking, etiquette, frat boys, seriously i assume the girls reading this are in agreement about the day-after text thing -- right?, the social art of the one-night stand