Disclaimer: I do not in any way condone stalking of any kind. No accounts were hacked; and no information, that hadn’t already been made public, has been used. And of course, all names and all identifying features have been changed.

In the cult 80’s teen flick Say Anything, All-American-Dream-Girl-Next-Door and sheltered, overachieving daddy‘s girl, Diane Court (Ione Skye), goes out on a date to a pre-grad party to celebrate the final year with fellow members of her graduating class; a body of misfits, she later comes to realize she barely knew. After awkwardly making her way through the room full of vaguely familiar and bewildered faces gawking at her, Diane is excitedly pulled aside by one such female classmate, who “knew of her” rather than “knew” her, and hears this: I know we were “ultra competitive” this year but if it wasn’t for [you] I probably wouldn’t have gotten into Cornell because you made me study twice as hard. So thanks. 

Diane is taken aback, and then, in kind, admits that her studiousness (resulting in her being valedictorian, no less) was also influenced, in some ways, by their silent competition.

Art imitating life? Not according to a number of current studies showing that women hate individual competition, especially in the workplace.

Per these studies, most women prefer to compete in groups, even when an individual woman is fully competent on her own. But, still to the chagrin of many a feminists, most work environments don’t engender group competition, making it much easier, likelier for men (who tend to thrive on individual competition) to earn higher wages and job promotions. It doesn’t help that girls and women receive mixed messages on the subject of competition. Sexual competition is bad. But workplace competition is good; the caveat being, however: if your competitor in said workplace is a fellow XX chromosome-carrier then you need to mind your P’s and Q’s, lest you perpetuate gender stereotypes like catfighting and backbiting.

At least for me, those studies are/were true. I recoiled from any sort of competition: individual; group; male vs. female; female vs. female; etc. My last attempt at some kind of meaningful competitive resolve was in high school during standardized testing season, and like Lebron James, I simply choked.

And ever since, you can say I’ve been simply coasting: ceding any and every “contest” in my life to others. I was trapped in this navel-gazing rut-bubble. Competing against oneself isn’t necessarily the greatest motivator: sure, I hadn’t accomplished anything great in my life, but neither did “Babette.”

My rut-bubble burst when one of my mother’s random asides actually penetrated my psyche: Such-and-Such, a (former?) childhood bff of mine, was getting married; and was now living in a certain cosmopolitan city.

Who? What? Huh?

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