What is this “cool girl”
Gone Girl‘s car monologue (below) had me instantly pondering about it.
And I was joined by a tonna other femmes for whom it instantly became blog fodder. In the film, we’re seeing her stripped of her gorgeous 50’s-Turner-Classic-vixen meets “hanging with the boys” style. Now she’s devolved. Reduced. Frumpy. Angry. She’s no longer that sexy woman with a secret – but openly scrolling vitriol onto paper with an ironically fluffy princess pen, while downing condensed sugar that’s very clearly been her daily diet since she fled her home. And she’s talking about how she kept her end of the deal. She was the cool girl for him. Coy and cheeky – but never angry. Willing to eat like a guy – yet kept a tiny waistline and a size barely above a one. She kept up her part. And by cheating on “the perfect woman”, he did not. Is it just because he got bored? Because every guy gets bored? Or is because the cool girl isn’t real? Or – better yet – that she is, and maybe (back here in reality) we’re mistaking cinematic “cool” for what’s cool in the real world. You know. The one where there are no narratives? Where life doesn’t end in the arms of a young Sean Connery just because my hair’s perfectly arranged with roots that are always done?
Where I don’t get a fairytale ending just because I’ll do anal even though I hate it?
Who sees these obvious concessions as cool?
More importantly – who’s happy being with someone who sees your sacrificed happiness as cool? First, I think we have to acknowledge that not everyone defines “cool” the same way. Cool girl isn’t just what’s being described here. Case in point comes later when she’s at NPH’s luxury getaway cooking gourmet and musing at his love for opera or whatever. What’s being described, really, is more of trading what you like to be the sig other’s ideal. Whatever that is. Much like beauty, religion, or even the way we respectively perceive the color blue – everyone has a different barometer for things like “cool”. But our task isn’t to make it a gender thing by tacking on the term “girl” to “cool”. Let’s act like grown ass human adults. ‘cause the moment we bring our ovaries into it, we’re going to start comparing ourselves to what other women are doing. Also, it inevitably becomes an “us versus men’s high expectations” thing. Avoid. This is about our insecurity. Not their expectations. Instead, first determine what code of living and hobbies and whatever feels right when you live it that way as a single person. Then imagine what would seem cool if you weren’t you (the whole “be the person you want to meet” thing – not “look at yourself through your crush’s eyes”). Finally (and this’s the real kicker): make those two synch up.
You’ll have good days. Bad days. “Uncool” days.
It’ll be really hard – especially when you meet someone you think you like and realize they want the iconized screen chick. These feelings are distracting, but avoid giving into or changing to meet the desires someone else has. Because that becomes habitual – and you become habitually unhappy in the process (and *spoiler alert* maybe morph into a murderous psychopath who *spoiler alert* slits NPH’s throat?).
In retrospect – with respect to the film story – I feel like she planned to murder him that moment when he asked her out loud to do the same thing she’d been quietly volunteering to do all along for her husband: change everything about her natural self back into that “cool girl”. NPH shone a spotlight on her secret way of getting men to like her. And she liked it about as much as a world renowned magician would if you explained his own trick’s secret to him in detail.
But maybe anyone who’s tried to play “cool girl” needs that pride punch.
‘cause nunna us are smoke and mirroring anyone here.
If you’re naturally flawless, good for you Glenn Coco.
But if you’re more of a Gretchen, chin up. ’cause there will eventually be someone who likes the way you scrunch your nose enough to think your naturally mousey brown hair or silly catchphrases ain’t too bad either. But you hafta be okay with your own scrunchy nose, nondescript coif color between salon schedulings, or other weird habits first. And if you’re not okay with any of them – natural or habitual – you gotta make sure any changes you make are for you. It’s really no different than the “can’t love anyone till you love yourself” thing, really: how can you be cool for someone when you’re not cool with yourself? And if you’re not – are you changing for you, or someone else? Doesn’t matter if you seem insecure or ridiculously exuberantly confident; if you let someone step all over you, you’re going to be squashed and small. And the people doing it can tell. And they’ll carry on doing it. A doormat is a doormat – even if it can do everything Aladdin’s enchanted flying rug can.
Time to pull that rug out from under whoever’s steppin on ya, girl, guy, or in-betweener.
‘cause that’s about the coolest fccking thing you can do.