Like All of Us
On jealousy, beauty, and the silent battle women fight — whether they admit it or not.
My friend’s ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend, and they look happy together. She found out by stalking his Instagram. And even though she’s a pro at playing the cool, detached girl, I can tell she’s disappointed.
Which is ironic, considering she’s the one who dumped him. It’s not that she wants him back — she doesn’t. But knowing he’s moved on? That stings.
Because deep down, she held on to this comforting little belief: that somewhere in this world, there was still a man who loved her.
That’s what she secretly hoped for all along. Not a reunion, not a second chance — just the idea of it. Something to soothe her ego.
But now, this new girlfriend changes everything. If he’s capable of loving someone else, then maybe she’s not enough anymore. Not good enough. Because if she were enough, he’d still be drowning her DMs in desperate love confessions, right?
But no. My friend’s ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend. And they look happy together. When I asked her what the big deal was, she scoffed and said, “I don’t care at all. She’s ugly.”
That sentence stuck with me. Because sure, it was mean. But more than that, it was dripping with resentment. What she was really saying was: “She’s not pretty. And I am.”
As if that should have been enough to keep him around. As if that’s all that mattered. As if women had nothing else to offer but their looks. As if being less attractive — a totally subjective concept, by the way — meant you didn’t deserve to be loved.
I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t help picturing this girl — this total stranger my friend had already reduced to an unworthy opponent.
Maybe this girl is funny. Maybe she’s smart, kind, sharp, creative. Maybe she has that contagious kind of laugh that makes other people laugh, too. Maybe she’s the type of friend who knows exactly what to say to cheer you up when you’re feeling like shit.
Lost in thought, I was snapped back to reality when my friend shoved her phone in my face. “No, but seriously Ines, look at her. She’s really not that cute.”
As I looked at the screen, I first saw a smiling young woman with a hesitant gaze. Studying her face more closely, I couldn’t help but feed the imaginary portrait I had started painting just moments ago. Maybe she’s a little camera-shy, convinced she’s not photogenic. Like my mom.
Maybe she sent this picture to three friends first, just to get their approval before posting it on Instagram. Like me.
And maybe she felt genuinely happy, relieved even, when she saw the notifications of Instagram likes rolling in. Like all of us.
All of us, women, sometimes lacking confidence, often seeking validation, always hyper-aware of how men see us. And the thought that we’re all fighting the same silent battle — whether we admit it or not — moved me. So I smiled.
But my friend’s voice yanked me out of my head again. “Right? Don’t you think so?” she asked, waving her phone at me, eyes begging for confirmation.
At that moment, I could have told her everything that had just crossed my mind.
But I knew this wasn’t the time. So I took the easy way out. “Yeah, you’re right babe. She’s nothing special. And you’re way hotter than her.”