It's 2am and you're hanging outside the bar thinking of ways to distract yourself from eating while on your #5 diet, even though the pizza place is across the street and you're just below blackout. Then you see him standing across the street: the self-proclaimed "bro."
The bro’s goal for the night is to fuck the hottest betch around, who, let’s face it, is you (thanks for the heads up Bros Like This Site!!). He motions for you to come over. As a true betch you're not going for that shit, and you scream that if he wants to talk to you he can cross the fucking street.
He obviously does.
The two of you start talking when he mentions that he has weed. OMG, yes, I love blunts!!! The thought entices you enough to go back to his place, smoke and watch Knocked Up. Ahhh Paul Rudd!!! Love him too!! In addition, this is a great way to avoid #5 eating, at least for an hour. In your drunken state, it's the perfect activity.
You go back, smoke a little weed, and this bro obviously starts to make out with you. You're almost drunk/high enough and are considering having sex with him. At least it'll be a workout!
Then you snap out of it and realize who you are. You’re a betch, and it will take more than a blunt and a ride in his BMW to conquer this shit. As a betch you realize that while bros rule the world (yeah, betches are secure enough in their awesomeness to admit it, who do you think you’re marrying anyway?), betches have the power to not have sex with them. Even their daddy’s money can’t get you to put out. As he tries to put his hand down your pants you yawn and say that you've got a super early group meeting and you’re so sorry and thanks for the blunt and you have to go. As if I’d ever go to any group meeting before noon. Bye.
See, the difference between your average slut and a betch is that a betch doesn't just use her hotness to get laid, she uses it to manipulate the bros who think they're in charge. Hellloooo just look at history! Anne Boleyn got her betchy ass to be Queen of England simply by not putting out to the ultimate asshole bro, Henry VIII.
This is not to say betches don't love having sex, but unlike bros, our vaginas aren’t attached to our brains. Except sometimes if you had too many shots, and were so drunk that you actually had that beer to put you over, you might end up fucking him anyway... in that case it's always fun to do a prank call with your betches a few weeks later telling him you're knocked up and are gonna need about 18 years of child support.