Rejection is one of the many sad facts of life. Whether it’s from a job, a school, a love interest, a credit card application, an unreturned text message to your mother, or the doorman at a club who won’t let you in because you’re wearing flip flops, despite your 30-min long diatribe on the oppressiveness of gendered dress codes, it hurts just the same. But luckily, I am an expert in being rejected, so allow me to give you some tips on how to deal with it.
Stop drop and roll
… it off your shoulders. Take a minute to be disappointed, shocked, and paralyzed, and then move on with your life. You have a lot more
being rejected succeeding to do.
Into the phone of the person who rejected you, mix up the names and numbers of their contacts, and let the uncomfortable text messages begin…. I.e. swap the labels for:
-Their mom’s # and their boyfriend’s (“Jason, don’t panic, but I think I’m pregnant.” ….. “What?? Does Jason know? Is it his? I never liked him! When I met him at Christmas I got a really bad vibe. I wasn’t going to say anything but clearly this relationship has gone too far. You obviously can’t keep it. That boy couldn’t father a goldfish.”)
-Their boss’s # and their BFF’s (“OMG I AM GOING TO KILL MY BOSS HE’S BEING SUCH A PRICK TODAY.” ….. “You’re fired.”)
-Their doctor’s # and their ex-boyfriend’s (“So just to clarify, my HPV test is positive but it’s for the cancer kind, not the wart kind?” ….. “HELLO.. What?? Did you give me HPV? Do I have to tell my slimmer, sexier, dumber new girlfriend that I might have given her HPV?”) [This is assuming anyone is fortunate enough to be able to text their doctor—a privilege for which I would happily give all of my legs and arms. #I’dbeblowin’upthatphone]
What was that? You tried to reject me? No you didn’t. I CAN’T HEAR YOU. OVER THE SOUND OF MY AWESOMENESS. WHICH MAKES ME UN-REJECTABLE.
Know that everybody hurts
Sometimes. When you think you’ve had too much of this life to hang on, well, everybody hurts sometimes. Everybody cries. So hold on. Hold on.
Throw a tantrum
You’ve always been good at tantrums—just ask your childhood babysitter circa ages 6-8. Scream, cry, kick, scratch, until you either get your way, receive acknowledgment by the other party of their absurd wrongdoing, or the authorities drag your unyielding body off the premises.
Knowing that it’s their loss. If they’re going to reject you, you don’t want them anyway. It’s that simple. Because there’s no scenario in which it makes sense that someone wouldn’t want you—you’re literally perfect and fine, you’ll take your marbles elsewhere; you don’t need this kind of negativity in your life, and if they aren’t capable of recognizing your
narcissism greatness, then someone equally sociopathic better will!
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