So… she’s telling me about this party she’s been to.
“And there was this awful guy who danced with every girl, putting his hands on them, getting real close and so on. A real creep,” she says.
“And he was ugly, too. I mean, if he were at least handsome, I’d understand that,” she says.
“But the thing is, he didn’t dance with me. He danced with every girl except me,” she says.
“So that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Well… I don’t know. Is there something so wrong with me so that a guy like this doesn’t want to dance with me?”
“I thought you didn’t like that guy.”
“But does it mean I’m ugly or something?”
I don’t remember how that conversation ended. I think I changed the topic because I thought it was getting too ridiculous. But later, I thought it might be good to write it down and show it to the world.
Lo and behold, the workings of an insecure female’s mind!