Powder room talk: 'Bitch' is the new 'bro'

How’d that blind date turn out for you?” I read the BBM from my friend in Manila, who for the rest of this piece will be known as Annie.

“It was fun. We went to a really nice whiskey bar. Kind of pricey, but they had a great selection. I don’t think I’ll call him back though,” I said.

“Why not?”

“He likes me too much. I hate it when they’re too goddamn eager,” I replied. “What about you? Are you still in a relationship?”

“Nah,” Annie said. “He’s too emotional and needy. I swear, these bitches be crazy.”

I wish I had the opportunity to time travel back to my boy-crazy, 18-year-old self and tell that awkward little punk, “You have several years ahead that you will totally waste embarrassing yourself for the sake of male affection. One day though, your sense of self-worth will kick in and you will make up for all those times.” Not that I think she would have listened (the daddy issues ran deep back then).

I have since realized that my dad is one of the coolest people I will ever know in my life and no longer feel the need to be absolutely adored by the opposite sex at any cost. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I’m off serious relationships for now. There are far too many things I’d rather be doing, such as landing a better job, traveling the world and playing laser tag with my siblings. Dating is strictly for kicks. It’s been a crapload of fun since I stopped seeing the entire ordeal as a prelude to a two-and-a-half year relationship that would begin with public displays of affection and after-sex spooning, and end with a temporary restraining order and emotional overeating. All that crap would make me feel far less complete than flying solo. So screw the serious stuff, I thought. Let’s keep things fun.

What I didn’t expect was that this attitude adjustment would come fused with an emotional constipation that would put me off sensitive men. So much so that I oftentimes found myself objectifying them. I had, in my younger years, been the victim of bros’ locker room talk, as many teenage girls are, so it quite surprised me that I started to speak about men that same way in my twenties. That was, until I read the “Duke F**k List.”

In September last year, a Powerpoint presentation created by Duke University graduate Karen Owen began to circulate the blogosphere. What was originally intended to be a private joke between friends ended up becoming a tremendous scandal on the World Wide Web. Owen’s “F**k List,” fully titled An Education Beyond the Classroom: Excelling in the Realm of Horizontal Academics, Senior Honors Thesis, Duke University, documented her various sexcapades with her school’s superstar athletes. The 41-page slideshow presentation described every sordid detail of Owen’s interaction with her conquests, including photos, the pros and cons of their performance and ratings on a scale of 1 through 10.

Since the Powerpoint was leaked online, Owen has removed all her social networking profiles from the Internet. She told Jezebel.com, “I regret it with all my heart. I would never intentionally hurt the people who were on that.”

Well, I guess she should’ve thought of that before she disclosed their c**k size.

Deadspin.com revered Owen as a hero. An editor at Harper Collins said they admired her sense of self-empowerment. Others are appalled. The question to ask, I suppose, is what the public’s reaction would be had this “F**k List” been produced by a man.

“Well, back in high school, I guess I’d high five him,” said my friend Ian. “But at this age it’s kind of classless.”

Personally, I think Owen should’ve just owned that shit. She ho’ed herself out to a bunch of jocks and decided to turn the tables on locker room talk. Now there are rumors that William Morris Endeavor wants to get her a book deal. Why feign shame for your actions when you clearly were unabashed enough to share them with friends who obviously weren’t that trustworthy to begin with?

The moral of the story is that bitches have always talked about men in that way. The difference is that now it should be more acceptable. We can vote for crying out loud, why shouldn’t we be able to talk to our friends about our dating life? I don’t think what Karen Owen did was right, but the manner in which she discussed her dalliances with Duke jocks was all on her. Bitches and bros have every right to talk about their personal lives with one another. How we talk to our friends really isn’t anyone’s business (unless we talk to them in Powerpoint slideshows, that is). The classy ones, however, like Annie and I, know to keep it in the powder room. 

If I ever do the serious relationship thing again, I’m sure the stars in my eyes and butterflies in my stomach will totally keep my mouth shut. But for now, boys, I’m sorry. Annie’s my bro and all of you know it’s bros before ho’s.

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Email the author at Francesca.ayala@gmail.com. Please, no Powerpoints. Have some freaking class.