On Being a Cool Girl

“Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.” - Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

GIF of Amy Dunne from Gone Girl

Many of us might remember the “cool girl” monologue from David Fincher’s Gone Girl. It was a brilliant piece of writing from Gillian Flynn paired with Rosamund Pike’s frighteningly calculated performance. The monologue was witty, memorable, and even cathartic. How many women have at some point felt the need to perform being chill, cool, and adventurous? It’s exhausting. Recently, I’ve been seeing this monologue become relevant in my own life in a more insidious way. Let me explain with an example. This isn’t a real exchange but rather an amalgamation of my dating experiences recently.

I’m talking to a guy that I’m interested in romantically. We send cute messages. We banter. We have similar interests. Maybe he likes the same bands I do. Maybe he also has a film crush on Adam McKay. Maybe we can swap funny stories about our families. Pandemically speaking, dates are not much of an option at the moment. But phone calls, video dates, and Netflix parties are totally an option.

I’m a very direct person when it comes to my romantic feelings so right away I let him know “…Hey I really enjoy your company and I’d like to try this. I think you’re (insert personal and endearing compliment here) and I’ve really enjoyed talking with you these past (insert an amount of time).”

And then the response usually ends up something like this.

“Yo Sana, I really enjoyed spending time with you too butttt I don’t really see this working out long term. I’d love to stay friends though. You’re just so cool and interesting. I hope there’s no hard feelings.”

I’m no stranger to rejection. So it doesn’t hurt that much to be told no by someone you like. Okay it does but it’s not unmanageable with a little help from friends, family, ice cream, and an episode or four of Parks and Rec or Sex and the City. But the thing that stings here is being told that although I’m not relationship material I am still “cool and interesting.” What really bothers me about this comment is that it somewhat makes it feel like because I come off as being unaffected emotionally by my environment that I can be told with ease that I am not worth their effort. “Cool and interesting” feels so reductive. It doesn’t really say anything about me as a person in terms of my actual emotional responses to things or my interests. It also makes me feel like I wasted my time talking to a person who didn’t really take an interest in me as a person.

I already feel like I’m kind of a weird person to be with. I never quite fit into any one of my different identities neatly whether it was Pakistani-American, Muslim, woman, artist, designer, DMV townie, or any other labels I have had. Now usually I relish not being in a set of boxes because that’s the beauty of being human. But being reduced to a caricature of a woman doesn’t help embrace this diversity of experience but rather enforces the labels others push onto us or even the ones we place on ourselves. Always having to be cool about this reduction is the same absurdity that would drive an Amy Dunne to fake her own death and frame her husband for it. That’s certainly an extreme but I can empathize with the desire to shed an identity that others have projected onto you.

Now I could totally be reading too much into this amalgamation’s choice of words. It is entirely possible that I am. But it’s happened quite a few times and the feelings of self loathing I tend to have afterwards are real. I feel like sometimes maybe I won’t ever end up being loved because I’m too weird, too cool, too interesting. And that’s not my main goal in life. By the grace of God, I have many places where I am fulfilled by my own accomplishments when it comes to my career, my hobbies, and my relationships with my friends, family, and community.

But the thing is I still care. I’m a sensitive person. Just because I am somewhat outgoing and generally happy with my life choices does not mean that I don’t seek companionship. A partner can challenge you to be better and that’s the sort of growth I look forward to. And I’m not deluding myself into hoping for cinematic instant romance. I understand that relationships take work and don’t become strong right away.

I guess I’m just saying that I wish someone would go the distance with me and not discount me so early.

Rather than refer to me as “cool and interesting”, I’d like to be seen as I see myself: a woman who feels a lot, albeit quietly, enjoys getting things done, has an almost spiritual relationship with music, and cares a lot about the people in her life.