Perfectgirlfriend - Frances Bentley - Friends E... -

In traditional film theory, the “male gaze” positions women as objects of heterosexual desire. Bentley introduces the girlfriend gaze—a female friend’s evaluative, often unconscious, judgment of another woman’s worth based on her desirability to men. Maya frequently comments on Ivy’s behavior with remarks like, “That’s why you’d make such a good girlfriend,” or “Leo would love that—you’re so easy to be around.”

These statements are not compliments but directives. The girlfriend gaze turns Ivy’s identity into a portfolio for a male viewer who is not even present. Bentley suggests that women police each other’s “girlfriend potential” as a form of social currency, reinforcing the very heteronormative structures that limit them. The tragedy of Ivy is that she mistakes this policing for love.

The novel’s turning point occurs during a shared vacation in Cornwall. Maya, aware of Ivy’s emulation, deliberately tests her: she asks Ivy to cancel a job interview to accompany her to an art gallery, to pretend to like a film she hates, to lie to Leo about a secret. Ivy complies each time, but the cracks show. In a devastating scene, Maya laughs and says, “You’re not perfect. You’re just scared.”

The friendship dissolves not with a betrayal, but with an act of honesty: Ivy finally says, “I don’t want to be anyone’s perfect girlfriend. I want to be my own friend.” The response from Maya is silence, then dismissal. Bentley concludes the chapter with: “The opposite of perfect was not flawed. It was real. And reality, she learned, is the loneliest audience.”

One of Bentley’s sharpest critiques in the book is the myth of the perfect girlfriend. Through Clara’s unraveling (late-night crying fits, hidden food journals, and deleted drafts of angry texts), the novel argues that perfection in a partner is often a performance of self-erasure. PerfectGirlfriend - Frances Bentley - Friends E...

Key passages highlight:

Frances, as the friend, serves as the reader’s conscience. She asks Clara: “Are you happy, or are you just easy to love?” That line has been shared thousands of times on Pinterest and Twitter.

Your query ends with “Friends E...” This may refer to a planned sequel or companion piece titled PerfectGirlfriend: Friends Edition, or possibly a chapter on “Friendship Economy.” Bentley’s blog (archived but inactive since 2023) mentions a short story called “Friends, Empty,” about a woman who performs the perfect bridesmaid. No published evidence confirms a direct sequel.

If you are searching for a specific text, consider these alternatives: In traditional film theory, the “male gaze” positions

Although PerfectGirlfriend has not been widely reviewed (due to its limited release), early readers on platforms like Medium and Substack have compared Bentley to Ottessa Moshfegh (My Year of Rest and Relaxation) and Eliza Clark (Boy Parts). Critics praise Bentley for refusing to offer redemption. Ivy does not “find herself” or reconcile with Maya. Instead, the novel ends with Ivy alone in a new apartment, learning to eat a meal without arranging the plates for two.

Feminist scholar Dr. Helen Okonkwo (University of Lagos) writes: “Bentley dismantles the myth that female friendships are inherently supportive. PerfectGirlfriend shows how the performance of perfection can be a form of intimate violence—not because women are cruel, but because the culture teaches them that their value lies in being chosen.”

Frances Bentley is not a household name like Colleen Hoover or Taylor Jenkins Reid — yet. But within niche online reading communities (BookTok, Wattpad, and Kindle Unlimited circles), Bentley has gained a loyal following for her raw, psychological approach to relationships. Her writing often strips away the fairy-tale gloss and instead examines the quiet betrayals, unspoken desires, and deliberate choices that shape modern intimacy.

PerfectGirlfriend is arguably her most debated work, and the addition of the "Friends E..." subplot or sequel teaser has only deepened the conversation. Frances, as the friend, serves as the reader’s conscience

Bentley employs a fragmented, second-person internal monologue to destabilize the reader’s sympathy. Ivy’s narration frequently shifts from “I” to “you,” as if she is writing a manual for the perfect girlfriend:

“You do not say you are tired. You do not say you disagree. You say, ‘Whatever you need.’ You become the shape of the space they leave for you.”

This technique implicates the reader. Are we not also complicit? Have we not, in friendships or relationships, suppressed our own edges to become more palatable? Bentley refuses to let PerfectGirlfriend be a simple cautionary tale. Instead, it is an uncomfortable mirror.