I consider myself a nice girl. You know, the kind who makes a breakfast in the morning involving eggs, and who would even consider learning how to blend Bloody Marys just because you like them. Someone who’d think of you while grocery shopping and stock up on things I hate, like strawberry ice cream, grape juice and white chocolate bars. I’m the kind of girl you can take to office parties, the kind who’d buy your best friend expensive whiskey on his birthday, and the kind you can take home to meet your dangerously hormonal sister. And after I’ve finally opened myself to the prospect of loving you into the future, I’m the kind of girl who gets sh-t on every time.

Maybe my high school sweetheart had it right all along: Maybe I am “too innocent.”

Silly me. And here I was still thinking of others before myself. I should have outgrown my annoying selfless habits back when everyone else did too.

My point is, the qualities I’ve always valued most about myself — things like kindness, intelligence and self-sacrifice — have apparently been holding me back. One thing I’ve learned in my 21 years of being used and taken for granted is that nice girls always end up second. Needless to say, the B-tchy Girls (BGs) take first, with the stupid and unattractive coming in last.

These BGs have the powers to both appall and intrigue you. They open their traps, and when you listen in wonderment to the poison that is their words, only one question repeating in your mind keeps you from falling prisoner into their web of mind games: “Who raised you?”

Think Paris Hilton. They’re so self-absorbed. So nonchalant. So demanding. And so exclusive that every guy wants them, and consequently, covets the validation that comes with conquering their b-tchy good graces. Their selfish antics are brushed off, and not only tolerated but even expected. Their nice gestures become rare gifts — gifts that those around them will repay ten-fold.

This is basic math: B-tchy equals desirable, usually by guys of the chivalrous, good-natured breed with a high patience for b-tchiness. More b-tchy equals even more desirable, and so on.

These BGs are the female equivalents to the male bad boy; the James Dean of the fairer sex. For the same reasons pheromones flare when bad boys enter the scene, guys become instant slaves to their testosterone in the presence of the BGs. They crave to be dominated. To be told what to do. To be validated by her acceptance.

The only factor separating the nice girls from the b-tchy ones is conscience, in that the BGs don’t have one. To them, guilt and remorse are fake feelings, or at best, things they evoke in others to get what they want. In the same way, apologies are also fake phrases, only used strategically at times of need to get what they want. While the rest of the world finds rude behavior or cruel words always difficult and often impossible to inflict on the innocent, the BGs live because of it.