Why I Like Being A Bitch

I say, heffa say what?! Get yo' life.

Given the state of black cinema, and by “state of” I mean “lack of quality,” I was somewhat excited for the opening of Think Like A Man. I wasn’t overjoyed because the casting department got way too excited and put everybody and their Wendy Williams in it. But I wasn’t lackluster since hilarious Kevin Hart flooded the advertising. So I expected a pretty decent film, and that’s what I got. But when it was over, all I could think of was the mistakes that were made from a production viewpoint and obvious bloopers. Why couldn’t I just be proud of this–accomplishment?

Then just a few weeks before, an associate of mine invited me out for drinks. I declined. Twice. Why? Because I have nothing nice to say to this person. I don’t hate them, I just have ill feelings & sincerely don’t want to entertain them for even 15 minutes. So I chose the avoidance route. Why can’t I just sit down, get those issues off my chest, and shoot the shit for a few hours?

Because I don’t want to.

Either I want to be (humanly) upset and in my zone for a while, or I’ve got to say what’s on my mind. And in my eyes, there is a decent explanation behind it (I know you couldn’t wait for me to say it). I’m mid-20s, so I’ve got a lot to learn. But that doesn’t discredit the trials of life that have already beat me up. Remember high school? Sure you do. That was probably the best four years of your life! You kicked it, saw it, drank it, smoked it, did it, and all of the above. Well I didn’t. I fucking hated high school with a passion! It was miserable deep down inside, but no one knew. I always covered it up because I was the ‘happy’ friend. Didn’t matter what day it was, I had a smile. I made someone laugh. I helped somebody with their work. I decorated for Homecoming. I was a cheerleader. I did all these things to boost my image and to maintain popularity. Didn’t get me any real friends, though (we’ll talk about that later). I was just trying to remain the girl who people liked. That means I hid a lot of bad days!

Fast forward to college, and Mr. Nice Rhonda disappeared by the end of the first semester. There’s only so much a person can take!!! (breathe…inhale…exhale) My dorm roommate was pushing the right WRONG buttons and I went loco on her ass. I used so many curse words at the top of my voice that the Resident Assistant came to see if we were fighting. Yeah, it was that bad. But you know what? I had never felt so good.

That one experience, yes that one, taught me not to hold in anger towards people. Why? Because I can crush them with my words (a skill that continues to develop!) and not lay a hand on them. That keeps me out of prison. And releasing those ill feelings makes me happier. Sounds messed up, but it’s the truth.

Lately, I try not to take things out on the wrong people, so I keep my distance. And you know what that makes me look like? A bitch.

Here’s an example. Months ago I was at a bowling alley with a group of friends and… long-story-short, some guy there made me upset to the point where I wanted to fight him. But he was a cool 300+ lbs so I wasn’t about to be stupid. Instead, I stormed away and didn’t speak to anyone the rest of the night. I was still mad. He pushed the right WRONG button. But my attitude in the situation toward my friends was quite bitchy. Oh well.

Now that I’ve lived a little, I’m tired of apologizing when someone has wronged *me* just to mend the bridge. I’m sick of picking up the phone to reconnect with people who *used* to call me all the time. And I’ve worn myself thin with fake hellos and goodbyes. I’m just fed up. I’m gonna be a bitch about it.

I know what you’re thinking: Rhonda, that’s not the way to be, don’t bow down to these people’s low behavior. Guess what? Fuck you, too LOL! What’s done is done. I’m tainted. There’s something like 7million or so people in this town, so I don’t feel the need to stroke a handful of egos just to keep them as “friends.” Honey I’ve got 6,999,995 more people to meet so step aside.

But I do look forward to the day when I’m nice to everyone again and their actions toward me aren’t a bother. That’ll be the day when I’m assured I’ll grow into a sweet old lady and not a mean one. Because eventually, someone’s gotta change my diapers again, and they deserve the utmost respect. So let me be a bitter bitch now while I’ve got the time. And when my inner Nene Leakes/Stasi Quinn surfaces, don’t say you weren’t warned.


“I mean, is there something wrong with society that’s making us so pressurized, that we cannot live without guarding ourselves against it?” -John Lennon
“It’s not the events of our lives that shape us, but our beliefs as to what those events mean.” -Tony Robbins
“No matter how dull, or how mean, or how wise a man is, he feels that happiness is his indisputable right.” -Helen Keller

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