I firmly believe there are two types of women in this world: Good Girls and bad girls. I’ve put a lot of time into these two distinctions of women, and I’ve come up with this theory. Hear me out.
The good girl and bad girl archetypes are the most basic form of division between women. Both come from, and are defined by distinct characteristics, but what’s ultimately funny. Perhaps a cosmic joke on a grand scale, is that most of the typical “good” women – the women society endorses and supports and holds to an ideal of what a “good” woman should be – are usually the more rotten of the two. The “bad” girls, while being outwardly bad, are generally the ones with the hearts of gold, the wise ones, and the ones you call upon when you truly need help. So this muddies the waters when trying to classify—I personally would call the “good” girls the rotten ones and the “bad” girls the golden ones, but then again, I have my own personal biases here.
I myself am a bad girl. I am the Penny Lane, the Lindsay Lohan, the Angelina Jolie, and the Jenna Jameson. I didn’t play by society’s rules, I didn’t go to college, find a husband, settle down into a monogamous relationship, buy a house, or pop out kids. I didn’t buy into the myth that women need be defined by which human they choose to procreate with. I didn’t learn to cook or clean, and I never felt any need to maintain my reputation. I never backed down from life. I put myself out there, and in doing so, did many morally and ethically questionable things that brought (and still continue to bring) dishonor to my family, in the traditional societal sense.
But, and it’s a major but, I have lived a life filled with pain and joy. I’ve learned so much about the world by traveling all around, had some amazing love affairs and embrace the fact that I am in charge of my own personal growth. I fully support myself and do not need validation, money or support of anyone, and therefore, no one controls me. I am not beholden to anyone or anything, aside from self-chosen loyalties. I do not feel pressure from society to do anything—I function outside of its rules. I fuck women and I fuck men and I have polygamous and occasionally monogamous relationships. I explore the sexuality I choose when I so choose to do it.
Sure this comes with a price, a big one. I do not have the social standing, the valid place in the fabric of our culture and society. I am marginalized, in the sense that not many people can relate to me; most people do not support me at all. I am called a whore, a bitch, a slut, a home wrecker, a filthy disgusting pig, a vile piece of shit who is seen as less than human. I struggle to find peace with my profession and my past. I live in fear of being “outed”, and also secretly pray that I won’t have to keep up the lies.
For a great many people who know my profession, I am subhuman and I am nothing except the choices that I have made—a sex worker, a fuck up, a disgrace. And while this is a rather vague and indefinable price to be paid for the freedom I have, it is nevertheless a price. It is hard to live on the periphery of a society, but at the same time, being on my own and being marginalized has taught me how to truly take care of my own emotions, my life and myself. It has given me the gift of self-sufficiency.
And then you have the good girls: The woman that does everything “right” and plays by society’s rules. They are lucky enough to never have to make the hard choices bad girls are forced to make, because they choose the easier road. The good girls marry, they have kids, they get the white picket fence with 2.5 kids and an SUV, but more importantly these women get societal standing and respect within their communities. Good girls are acknowledged amongst society – aren’t invisible people who everyone chooses to ignore, or hate enough to turn into a villain. We all look up to them, respect them and hold them in this holy place of mother and nurturer. No one questions good girl motivations or their choices, and when they fall, they have all of society to stand behind them and back them up, as well as solid families, spouses, and even the law. They are never alone or marginalized and they bring honor to their family name. They are the ones that define what it is to be a woman—to cook and serve and clean and raise kids, and this self-prescribed role that society has written for women is something they selflessly abide by.
However, in all of this, they give up a great amount of freedom and a great amount of joy that comes through breaking the rules, or even bending them. I can’t say exactly what it is they miss out on because I have never been the good girl, and from my perspective, it seems like they get all the good shit in this world. But I’m sure many a good girl, like my mother, who married at 19 and spent her whole life as a housewife, wishes they’d gotten the chance to do something crazy. Perhaps taking four months to travel the world or have their own apartment in the city, and a string of oddly named lovers whose faces they won’t remember. They wish they could get shit faced and rip their clothes off and get dollar bills thrown at them. Perhaps. The grass always does tend to be greener on the other side.
But what’s funny is, at least in my experience, these good girls tend to be also spoiled and catty, bitchy, controlling, and manipulative. It’s like by nature of their exalted position within society they know they can get away with being manipulative and controlling. Good girls can be bitches and no one calls them out on their shit because they are “good” girls. You can’t very well call a woman a bitch who’s got such great standing within the community. People will just think you’re jealous. So these women tend to be rotten inside, drunk on the power of their own position. They know they hold the cards, and use the victim mentality to twist everything around so it is never their fault. I can’t say I blame them though, because lord knows, it’s human nature to use whatever power you have to get what you want in this world. This is especially so if you’ve given up so much in your life to get what you feel is rightly yours, which in this case, is the social standing and “good” girl label, as well as the attenuating power.
We, as bad girls tend to be more genuine and real because we have to be. We don’t have the opportunity to be bitchy and catty. We never were spoiled because no one ever was around to spoil us. We got tossed out into a world that tried to rip us to shreds and had to fight tooth and nail for every single crumb we got. We learned early on that the world would offer us nothing except harsh judgment and ideals that we don’t agree with. So you end up with “bad girls”, bad as in they fuck for money, or they dance naked for strange men, or they fuck other girls’ boyfriends. They steal and lie and cheat people, do drugs, stay up late, chain smoke, wear slutty dresses, speak too loudly, drink too much—you have these girls, but underneath all of that, all of the roughness and bad choices, you have hearts of gold. Hearts that know pain, and know what it feels like to have to tackle the world all on your own. We end up being loyal with our own brand of honesty amongst thieves, a code of the outsider that does not coincide with the codes written by everyone else. We are the ones you can call at 5am to come bail you out of jail. We will be there when you’re too fucked up to walk, and we’ll get you home and undress you, put you to bed, and wake you up with a blow job in the morning. No questions asked. We’ve been there ourselves and who are we to judge? We know what it’s like, and we know how we would have liked to have the world treat us.
So, there is the conundrum. This is why it’s hard to classify women as looks can be quite deceiving. On the surface what you see usually is not what you get and most people – most women, never realize this. The good girls stick with other good girls and believe they are morally unquestionable, and good and true and that the world owes them big time for being so awesome and that all men and all other women should bow in their presence for being so great a creature despite their being entitled and spoiled. The bad girls stick with other bad girls, and think they must band together against the rest of the world, to create their own society because no one else wants them, and if someone does want them, it’s to fuck them over and screw with their heads, their money or their pussy. They are suspicious of everyone and mostly of good girls, which they either fucking hate, misunderstand, or wish they themselves could be. The two tribes generally never intermix.
Seeing as how I came from a traditionally “good” family and my sisters are “good” girls, I see both sides. I don’t know why I chose to be bad, or if it was really even a choice. I think it’s just in my genes. I question things too much, and I’m too stubborn and strong headed and determined to get what I want out of life to subjugate myself to society’s rules about female behavior. My father raised me like a son and so I act as such, which makes it difficult for me to bond with “good” girls. I want to be the CEO of the company, not that dude’s wife. That sort of mindset isn’t acceptable in a“good” girl world. Nor are threesomes or fucking other women, nor is smoking cigarettes or watching porn.
Where do men fit into all this? Not that we really need to bring men into it, but I do want to say that it’s pretty simple in the male mind: men want to fuck the bad girls, and marry the good girls. This is why men cheat and why women like me get depressed. I feel often that I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough for much else, because no one can see past the whole “bad” girl thing. Men don’t want a girl who’s been around, at least not in the white dress, not in front of the family. They don’t want to show a tattooed ex-stripper off to grandma. I get it. I do. There are traditions to be upheld.
However, on the same token, men also want to fuck the stripper with the tattoos because she’s beautiful and dangerous, something they can never really have, something they cannot control or own. This is why good girls hate the bad girls so much—the bad girls are the sex incarnate that the good girls don’t have. Good girls have all the power everywhere else, but when it comes to sex, bad girls rule it. Bad girls will fuck with the lights on and suck your dick like a porn star, while good girls are too afraid to look at themselves in the mirror. Of course the ultimate fantasy for every man is to have a “freak in the sheets and a lady in the streets”. However, due to the nature of the male mind and the Madonna/whore complex, men will never find this exact ideal because they stereotype all women into one of these two roles and cannot come to terms with a girl who embodies both.
It’s an honored tradition in any society in which women cannot have any role except “good” or “bad”. As women, we are forced to pick our sides, to varying degrees, committing to the bad girl life, sometimes only in parts, or choosing to be a former bad girl turned good (see any porn star that’s tried to clean up or Angelina Jolie who has to have 10 children and saves the world all in an attempt to get away from her husband’s stealing, limo fucking, blood sucking past).
It’s sad in many ways, because I believe in sisterhood, and I believe in the basic goodness of all humans, male or female. I believe in universal love and understanding, in erasing classes, nations, and other such man made barriers to peace and love. For every girl who’s ever hated me, hated me for making more money than them, for not compromising and living out my dreams, for fucking their boyfriend, stealing their girlfriend, using all their drugs, for wearing clothes they wish they were brave enough to wear, for having the balls to do the things they only dreamed of doing—to all of these women, I have nothing but love and understanding. I respect and admire and secretly covet everything they have, and everything they have given up for a life that is honorable and respectable. I will never know a life like that, and I have nothing but love for people who choose to live that way. It’s just not for me.
I would not choose to be married over choosing to travel the world or live life on my own terms. In my dreams, I can have a life partner that I don’t have to give up anything for—someone to live alongside me, to share these adventures with, but in the end, that’s probably a delusion. We can’t have it all. At some point in the future, I will have to choose between having a stable relationship and a family or continuing to live a crazy, adrenaline fueled existence. I know this. But I’m still young, so I’m going to ride it out as long as possible. I don’t like to make the hard choices, and I’m still young enough and stupid enough to believe that one day I will have it all and that I will have a man in my life who accepts this in me without trying to tame or change me. We’ll see.