Alex is moving to the city this weekend, sharing an apparently “awesome” apartment with a guy and girl from his work. Conveniently, my roommate Mikey and I have been ready to part with an unused armchair taking up space in the living room and I gave my only sibling first dibs before Lo snatched it up.
He and Ben just pulled up to collect his new furniture and I, feeling all big sisterly, insisted they come in for a beer. One of the great benefits of having a brother is the constant insight to the male psyche he and his friends provide.
As we sat around our new glorious kitchen island, Ben and Alex discussed a chick they rated as a “Zero.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I stopped them. “A zero? On a scale of what?”
They both looked at me and responded;
“One to Zero.”
Maybe you didn’t know this, but a girl is either a one or a zero. You’ll either fuck her. Or you won’t.
Ben clarified. “There’s such a thing as a high zero. Change a couple of things and we’re golden. Oh, oh. And also, someone can fluctuate. Drink enough, she becomes a one. A high sober zero can become a low drunk one.”
Oh my god.
My mind flashed to a million different guys, all of whom I was suddenly convinced had instantly rated me either a zero or a one.
The humiliation of womanhood overwhelmed me.
Again feeling big sisterly, I dove into the boys with a feminist fury, berating their shitty system and obvious lack of sensitivity.
“Gentleman, I raised you better than that. There are people, you’re rating. These are women. With opinions and personalities and BROTHERS. Don’t be that guy.”
Ben took a swig of his beer and smiled. “You’re a high one.”
Oh. Nevermind. I love this system. It’s totally just. Forget I said anything…