Fragments of the sister code I

Kids have the "tattletale" code. Guys have the "guy-code". We, girls have the much less popular and less reverent "girl code". It isn't exactly what you would refer to as binding. I assume it's because we, girls do not exhibit the in-group bias*. It's an every-woman-for-herself situation we have going. Men and children definitely defend one another devotedly within their in-groups. Proof 1, my husband never spills about his friends. Proof 2, my nephews and nieces (all below age 6) never tell on each other. Girls, enough said. Let's put a list together. They won't be rules, everyone hates rules, but everyone loves hashtags!

Here's the first :

#menpoachban

poach  (pōch)

intransitive verb

1:to encroach upon especially for the purpose of taking something

2:to trespass for the purpose of stealing game

(Merriam Webster)

This is an old one. If you need to ask whether a man is fair game, he probably isn't. Men hardly leave their wives for mistresses. ‎They all have the same story about how they ended up with the wrong woman, how she's so awful and he's going to leave her. Unfortunately, we can't make men act right. However, we can act right and protect each other by not poaching.

I met this guy one day during my lunch break at a restaurant close to work. There he was, sitting there, attractive, ring-less and he was staring at me. That made me smile.

He obviously took the smile as a come on over. And he did, slow and measured. He had done this before. I could tell. His eyes, dark, locked on me, confident and sure. It was exciting but it was mildly unsettling. My pulse throbbed against my tightly fastened watch. This was going to be trouble. I had come to know men and developed a 'bullshit' sensor. The faculty that perceives the external stimuli of BS.

Just to throw him off, I got up to leave (hehe, of course I paid the bill), he followed me. Few pick-up lines later, he asked for my number. I said no but said he could give me his [this is the best way to get a guy to leave you alone]. He wouldn't let me go till I promised to call him that evening. I conveniently and intentionally forgot.

The following morning, my C.O.O at work calls me into his office (what! Why!; My thoughts). I show up and he says he ‎got a call from one of our clients who met me yesterday (my mind is scrolling fast through my directory of faces from the day before). Then ding, it hit. Restaurant guy! C.O.O then asks me to please establish contact with the client, completely oblivious (I would like to believe).

The guy (Tim, his real name) had called my C.O.O ‎to ask for my full name and my details and now I had to see him on executive orders [He also left his number (again) just for good measure]. 

I'll admit I was impressed, I felt more than special. He actually went all the way up the organization ladder to get my attention. It was going to be a disaster. You know that moment when you meet a man who wants a steady thing (bells, whistles, streamers, slow-mo) and you know that moment when you meet the "others" (sound of crickets). He was the others, with a crown. So guards up, sentences short, I called him at lunch time and that was all he needed. He started texting, calling, showing up outside my building once I got off work (he worked like two buildings down), surprise lunches. I had told my friend who wouldn't stop gushing about how sexy it was that he called an executive to get me to call him. She called him "sex-exec". *rme*.

 Then, not long after I discovered he was married. Someone at work knew him, it wasn't much of a shocker. All I really could think of was his wife. This is not me being self - righteous but my mind literally put a woman together (complete with painted toe-nails), threw in some kids and some guilt and we had the perfect 'clear-off cocktail'. ‎I cut off completely, lost his number, and blocked his calls (thankfully, we hadn't engaged full social media communication). I had to let go, for myself and for his wife.

It turned out his family was in another state and he worked in my city, occasionally. So I was to be the silence-filler/bed-warmer/bar-buddy. Well, he never had the pleasure. Thank God!

He kept calling though. I changed his number to "Dont pick ever" (I was dry on wit, I should have been more creative).

It wasn't my problem if his wife was awful, was cheating or even Maleficent! They took vows, both of them, not three of us. Maleficent has nice cheekbones, he could suck on that.

We, girls, are so perfect in every way and left-overs just shouldn't do. We are beautiful, smart, sexy, nurturing, loving, creative, cunning (this has its good side), emotional (this also), fun, resilient, devoted, great hard workers, soft but tough, stubborn but yielding, silly but wise. Perfect.

So why be a side-girl? We all deserve a wonderful man, a great life filled with memorable years that take our breaths away. With realizing this comes dignity.

This dignity teaches us to respect the lives and stuff of other sisters.

Your thoughts are completely welcome!

*in-group bias: means to give preferential treatment to a group you have identified with.