Being friends with guys, I'm sure anyone out there can agree, is monumentally different than being friends with girls.

There's always going to be the occasional petty chick that's already burned through her list of girl-friends bragging about how being friends mainly with guys is "refreshing." There's "no drama" and it's "more comfortable" and you can really be "yourself" around dudes that don't care about looks as much as "other girls."

Heck, you may be that girl, for all I know.

But I'd have to say, surprisingly, being friends with either gender is not that entirely different.

The guys I have been friends with over the years have had their drama, their petty fights, their good days, their bad days, their heartbreaks, and their midnight Wendy's runs.

Being a girl myself, however, puts me in a unique perspective. I have had enough exposure to girls — being one — to understand the basic mannerisms of how girls treat people, how they think about treating people, and how they think about how people treat them.

And I have never, in my entire life, been so utterly appalled at how you treated one of my best guy friends.

Relationships are tricky. They're about challenges, compromises, good days, and bad days. The art of meeting someone you genuinely click with is just step one, but working through steps two, three, etc? That's a different story.

What shouldn't be difficult, however, is treating someone fairly.

I know the gist of popular culture. I know social media and online blogs and the internet's warped perception on personal issues and demons that keep us from connecting with others;

I know the internet moles that go on and on about not being able to carry a relationship because they always carry that self-doubt first, or are too busy working on self-improvement and their own fixation on self-esteem to be able to healthily relate to another person.

I've seen the lengthy posts and articles about people having too much baggage to be able to appropriately and maturely be able to get out of their own head when they're with other people.

I know the plethora of 2018 hit songs that are also somehow material that justifies your twisted, manipulated perception on what a relationship genuinely should be.

I'm not amused by this charade of damage you carry around you. I've seen damaged people. We're all damaged. There's nothing wrong with being a damaged human being.

But there is something exceptionally wrong with using it as a mechanism to be someone else's toxic relationship.

I'd like to think that projecting your own warped idea of yourself onto other people is not voluntary. I'd like to think that it's a delusion set up by how you learned to interact with people; a side effect that keeps you on your toes constantly trying to have the upper hand in a group of friends, being the most attractive, least committed one — it's selfish, but it's clever.

Maybe it's the friends you've surrounded yourself with; maybe they're too far gone in their own worlds to notice that this, this, is not how you treat people — the constant insistence of being in control, setting the standard for a conversation or having things your way every time.

But maybe, maybe they're so desperate to see someone like you notice them, clinging to your couture and big sunglasses, whispering under their breath that maybe, maybe, you being in their group doesn't just make you one of them, but makes them one of you.

But please tell me how, after all these years of middle school and high school, that you haven't come across a basic idea of how to treat someone in a relationship.

Tell me how you thought it was okay to "stop, drop, and roll" a person that was more than willing to accommodate for you.

How you thought it was genuinely excusable to project some sort of victim character onto him, expecting him to defend you at every turn, in every group chat, to his friends, to himself — and yet still find the time to find someone new to sit with in the dining hall.

And after all this time, how is it possible that you're still here, calling occasionally with every whim and need you have, keeping him on speed dial, because you know that he's always going to be there despite the weeks that you haven't spoken to him.

How do you find the song lyrics to justify keeping him on a key chain?

Please, let it go. Please, drop the act. We're tired, we're done, and we know the dance by now.

Whether or not you've learned from this, or if it's become another soap opera on the tip of your tongue, maybe, maybe, maybe find the time to treat someone better the next time around.

Who knows, maybe they'll stick around longer.