The Most Ridiculous Dear Betch Letter Ever

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This is maybe the most ridiculous Dear Betch we've ever received, so we decided to insert comments directly into the letter. Enjoy!

Dear Betch,

In light of your post about “almost boyfriends” and girls that accept them, I had to share a story from this weekend. Some girls will stand up for themselves, and this guy (let's just call him another “SAB“) messed with the wrong crazy betch.

As background, this SAB thinks he's the shit. Sure, he's relatively smart, attractive, and works as a VP at a fancy hedge fund, but he's 30 years old, went to only the 2nd-least-betchy ivy, (and what exactly is that?) and still lives in one of the most cliché buildings in NYC (the Biltmore, second only to Windsor Court). (Are you serious, how about you stop trying so hard? There’s no such thing as living in a “cliché” building in NYC. And from the sounds of this idiotic letter, I doubt you could afford to live in any building in Manhattan, “cliché” or not.) He's the definition of a manchild who thinks he's a “catch,” but more on that later.

I met this SAB back in June on Hinge (I had sworn off dating apps before, but I had just ended things with a “Maybe Gay Bro” and needed to get back in the game). He messaged me immediately after matching and asked to get drinks that week.

After canceling on his ass the first time (hey, what true betch doesn't reschedule at least once?), (Umm, a betch who wants to guarantee there’s no second date by making the guy think she’s not interested, that’s who) we got drinks a week later. Our first date was pretty average, but he FB/insta friended me the day after, so I mistook his creepiness as genuine interest. We went out a bunch of times over the summer… he even took me to the Hamps in July for a couples weekend after only a few dates. (Doubt it.) It was still casual – I was also dating other people at the time – but he was basically acting as my almost-boyfriend.

Then, one night, he randomly went psycho because he didn't want a relationship and cancelled plans that night. I thought he was crazy for freaking out so early, but I was still pissed. I knew his game by then – serial Hinge dater who takes girls on one date then immediately FB/insta friends them. Since this SAB isn't exactly savvy with social media, it was all too easy to decipher which girls he recently went out with (read: any younger pretty brunette with zero mutual friends). I FB messaged his most recent conquest and informed her of his game. (WTF is wrong with you?) Crazy, sure, but other betches may not be as clever and deserved to be forewarned, no? (No.) Needless to say, he found out, and they never went out again.

About a week later, he texted me that he missed me. WTF? I had revealed my batshit craziness, yet he still wanted to see me? I figured this SAB must also be nuts, or maybe he'd reconsidered what he wanted (summer was winding down after all, time to latch on to someone for the impending winter months). Intrigued by his own craziness, I gave him one final chance.

It was pretty smooth sailing for a couple of weeks. We hung out often, met each other's friends, and texted or called every day. He also kept asking me about my upcoming birthday, hoping to snag an invite to the national holiday party.

On Monday, he invited me and my friends to pregame on Friday night at his bro's place in Midtown East. As much as every true betch never goes above 23rd street on a weekend, (keep telling yourself that) he was insistent, and I clearly wanted to give this a fair shot. The pregame actually had been going well – he was appropriately affectionate and made an effort with my friends – until the end of the night. Then he went over to talk to his little sister's best friend (who he claimed he didn't invite, but yet she didn't know anyone else there). After a while, I went over to introduce myself aka check up on him. They both immediately stopped talking, got super awkward, and said they were going home. My response: “You're going home together?” They didn't answer and abruptly stormed out.

At that moment, I was sure he was being shady. We hadn't talked about exclusivity, but who invites a girl he's dating and her friends to a pregame then leaves with someone else? Fuck that, this SAB deserves to be caught red-handed. (Caught red-handed doing technically nothing wrong since you weren’t exclusive? Okay).

With some liquid courage, I hopped in a cab to the Biltmore (obvs had no trouble getting in, I know half the building).(OMG SHUT UP NO ONE THINKS YOU’RE COOL BECAUSE YOU’VE FUCKED HALF THE RESIDENTS AT THE BILTMORE.) I went up to his apartment, heard both of their voices, and rang the doorbell. After several minutes of ringing/knocking, he finally cracks the door open, yells “you need to fucking leave,” and slams the door in my face. HAH, like I'm going to walk away now, you little fucker. We start yelling through the door, then his sister's best friend (let's just call her “SBF”) finally lets me in.

Here's how the conversation played out:

Me: Who the fuck do you think you are?

SAB: [silence]

Me: How dare you invite me to a pregame then leave with someone else? You disrespected and embarrassed me in front of my friends. I don't care if we weren't exclusive – who does that?

SAB: [to SBF] I didn't even invite her. My friends invited her in Montauk.

Me: Are you fucking kidding me? Blatant lie #1. I didn't even know your friends!  (You said earlier that you had met each other’s friends…) [SBF], I'll show you my texts from him reminding me to come all week.

SBF: How many times have you guys gone out?

SAB: [squirms uncomfortably and hesitates] Like five times.

Me: Fucking blatant lie #2. We've gone out way more that that. Actually, we've fucked on the couch you're both currently sitting on at least double that. You're an asshole, stop lying right in front of my face.

SBF: Well, yeah he's an asshole, but he can be since he's a catch. (Uh, what? Sounds like you and “SBF” should be besties since you’re both the same level of completely delusional.)

Me: He's a “catch?” Maybe on paper, but he's certainly not a catch if he treats girls like that. (So why are you even there?)

SAB: Can you get out? This is super uncomfortable.

Me: No, I'm not done. You'll never be happy with the girls who let you get away with this shit just because you're a “catch” on paper. You're so immature, I don't even think you're capable of having a real relationship.

SBF: Actually, I've known him forever. He's had girlfriends but can be an asshole.

Me: But yet you're desperate enough to stay and hookup with him even after all of this? (And you’re so much better?)

SAB: Can you leave now? This is so awkward [sinks further down in corner of couch]. I'm going to call my doorman.

Me: I'm leaving. [SAB], good fucking luck. You may think you're a “catch,”but just wait until you're 40 with nothing to prove for yourself except for how many Hinge dates you went on and jappy girls you've fucked. (Why do you people say “catch” every other word?)

Then I walked out and never regretted what I did. I hope that SBF had more self-respect than to hookup with him, but I'll never know. All I know is that I stood up for myself, embarrassed the fuck out of this SAB, and felt great about it the next morning. I don't care if they think I'm one crazy betch (true), I'd much rather that than be called a slutty dumb doormat.


A real “catch” of a betch

Dear Catchy Catch Catch Catch,

You do know this is an advice column, right? I didn’t see a question anywhere in there. I would just ignore this but a) I think it’s fucking hilarious and b) reading your work of short fiction cost me 5 minutes of my life I’ll never get back so might as well go all in. Look, if you want to brag all over the internet, get a fucking blog. Don’t write in a (very obviously fake) story to an advice section hoping to get praise for what you did. You sound like you’d be one of those people who sign up for Kitchen Nightmares and then gets offended when Chef Gordon Ramsey calls your food crap…like if it wasn’t crap you wouldn’t have asked for our help.

Anyway, let’s pretend we live in Narnia or some alternate universe where there’s even the slightest possibility this might have actually happened. Which, for the record, I did not believe for a minute, so if you’re going to live your life as a pathological liar, your lies should at least be somewhat believable (pro tip).

Okay, I’ve opened my wardrobe and gone through to the other side where I write this from inside a castle, of which I am the Queen. Now, onto this story of yours. I’m not answering this for you as much as I am for any other betches out there who might be thinking, “Yeah! Confront the SOB! That’s the way to go! Girl power!” or something similar. If you read that and think I’m bulimic and can read minds, slap yourself. Now slap yourself again. Now call a friend, and ask her to slap you. After three hearty slaps, I think you should be back on Earth.

Ladies: if your “almost boyfriend” aka SAB is being, well, an SAB, this is not how you go about dealing with it. You ditch him. You don’t confront him about his “wrongdoings” and make a huge scene in the hopes of embarrassing him, because the only person you’ll embarrass is your sorry ass. As the great philosopher K-Camp says, “It ain’t nothin’ to cut that bitch off.” Delete his number, Facebook, Insta, Hinge, J-Date, J-Swipe, whatever. Then you get on with your life. You’re not this guy’s life coach, not to mention you weren’t even dating, so it’s not your place to try to show him the error of his ways. Not like he'll GAF about your intervention attempt, since he doesn't even GAF about your existence on this planet.

Before I continue any further I’d just like to say that this guy does seem like a Grade-A Douche and you should stay the fuck away from him. Are you happy, commenters? I’m not blaming it all on the girl. Fuck the patriarchy, etc etc.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it just sounds like you’re a butthurt floser who’s mad that the guy she couldn’t get to put a ring on it is fucking other bitches. Yes inviting you to a pregame and then blatantly leaving with someone else is fucked up but that's why you see above and cut that bitch off. Also unless you’re unknowingly dating a bro who’s also dating 3 other girls at the same damn time, it’s not your place to go all “John Tucker Must Die” and warn half of his Hinge matches that he’s *gasp* going on dates with more than one person, while never having agreed to only go on dates with you.

You’re right about one thing: you do seem crazy, but not in the “I’m assertive and some insecure asshole guys will sometimes call me crazy because of it” sense (an annoyance all betches have to deal with at one point or another). You sound crazy in the “I’m going to buy you a scarf, and then burn it in the middle of your bed” sense. Wait, are you Eduardo Saverin’s ex gf?? I actually want to know.

Anyway, since you didn’t ask for any advice I don’t have any to give, so that worked out perfectly. TL;DR None of what you wrote happened IRL and if it did you should see a doctor.

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