We’ve all seen the tweets and Instagram posts that the world has become obsessed with. It’s the age-old idea of the cool girl, just modernized to fit 2015 standards of cool. I think “Gone Girl” summed up the typical cool girl best: “Being the cool girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games... Cool girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want... Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl.”
And, I should know, because I thought I was one.
I always used to say that I was different, because I get ESPN updates on my phone and can rap every single word to every Will Smith song (I’m not half bad at Childish Gambino either, but I digress). I prided myself on knowing that when guys are talking about wanting STIs, they’re talking about Subaru’s, not sexually transmitted infections.
I thought I was a cool girl because I am a fairly low-maintenance girlfriend and don’t need you to text or call me every day. I don’t agonize over going out in public with my hair in a messy bun, and won’t have a panic attack if my makeup gets ruined at the beach.
But, the older I get, the more my genuine personality breaks through this cool girl façade that I have carried for so many years. I’m starting to feel comfortable letting people know that I actually cried for three hours when the Jonas Brothers broke up, and that I’ve never seen a single minute of a "Star Wars" movie.
I think for most people who are living the cool girl lie, the hardest part is admitting that you are actually the opposite of a cool girl. Everyone is afraid that as soon as the curtain falls, so will the boys and the popularity and everything that comes with being a classic cool girl.
But, if being a cool girl means I’m not supposed to expect things from the other person in my relationships, I don’t want to be cool. If being a cool girl means hiding pieces of my personality away because it makes me seem high-maintenance, then I don’t want to be cool.
I want to be myself, and if being myself means being deathly afraid of birds and screaming anytime one comes near me in public, that’s cool to me. If being myself means that I’m not ashamed to post pictures of my Starbucks drinks once in a while, that’s cool to me.
I think that a real cool girl is just someone that is comfortable in their own skin. It has taken me a while, and many failed attempts at skateboarding, hiking and listening to miserable rap music to realize that I am not a typical cool girl.
Falling into the cool girl trap is easy. One day, you’re Googling the lyrics the guy you like tweeted, and responding with the name of the song to act cool, and the next you’re agreeing to anything he says, hiding back a huge portion of yourself. It’s recognizing that this trap exists, and learning to be uncool before someone will truly accept you for who you are. And if that’s someone who loves makeup and Starbucks, and doesn’t know a single football player except Tom Brady, then that’s totally and completely, 100 percent cool.
