How to tell if you’re the Bridget of your girl gang
You’ll choose ginormous pants over a thong for practicality
When watching Bridget Jones for the umpteenth time, somewhere in between the scene where she chooses ginormous pants over a thong and the one where she makes New Year’s resolutions to lose 20lbs and find a nice, sensible boyfriend, I realised that amongst any gal group (most of whom will have met their Mark Darcy’s and thus stopped drinking themselves to oblivion while crying and listening to Celine Dion) there’s always a Bridget.
The Bridg of the group will be the one who perpetually returns home for the holidays without said boyfriend, and instead forms romantic attachments, as the real Bridget puts it, to ‘alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts’.
She’s distinguished as the one who drinks too much, could do with several very sweaty work-outs to ‘I’m Every Woman’ and is insistently questioned by paranoid family on when the next uni boyfriend should be expected, knowing full well their trajectory suggests never.
People often call you the ‘fun one’ with 10 times the charm and banter of Natasha, but as much luck in love as a shoe. You’d rather have vodka and Chaka Khan over the depressing reality of another term alone, and tend to vacantly nod along to any talk of boyfriends and grad schemes, while thinking of how long it would take to be found dead in your flat, eaten by a Doberman.
As hard as you try, if you’re Bridget of the gang you’re always the one that people refer to as ‘quite jokes’, but otherwise fucking useless. The one who makes everyone else feel that bit better about themselves when sharing tales of tragic sexual encounters and recalling pissed memories at SU nights.
Lovable, but shambolic, people will say they’ve only gone and ‘pulled a Bridget’ if they make a wrong turn in any of their endeavours – and you, the one who usually sits there and takes the stick, now in true Bridget Jones fashion, will sit and help weald out a solution to the crisis, because obviously it’s already happened at some point throughout your calamitous life.
It is this time of the year that if you align yourself as being your group’s Bridget that you will start to question your choices. A bit self-pitying, you’ll be wondering if you really needed to inhale those mince pies, despite the fact the festive period is well and truly over, or let yourself get used again by another Daniel Cleaver fuckboy at your hometown reunion. You’re realising that unless something changes soon, you’ll be living a life where your major relationship is with a bottle of wine.
Praying for a big break in TV and/or a text back, the Bridget’s are looking to 2017 as the year they find the one and stop getting hit on by dodgy over 50s.