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| The Truth about Girls and Boys |
| 10.12.04 (1:55 pm) [edit] |
|
I believe, and have for quite some time, that deep down, I have the soul of a boy. I don’t have penis envy and I am actually quite happy with my breasts. It just seems that for some reason I don’t seem to like the things that girls are supposed to like. For instance, I have stopped pretending that I enjoy musicals, I can’t even stand to watch them because I have and intense need to yell out "Get on with the plot and for God’s sake, street gangs do not tap dance before a rumble!" I really don’t care who is dating whom in Hollywood; I’m just biding my time until the whole damn state falls off into the ocean. I would much rather watch a basketball game than anything on network television. I cannot stand Professional Ice skating, Awards Ceremonies, Soap Operas or Reality Shows. If I want an ice cream sundae I order one without feeling the need to explain about my diet. I listen to talk radio. I am politically conservative. I prefer to drink beer out of the bottle. I collect old metal toolboxes, rusty tackle boxes and books about the Revolutionary War. I hate small talk, relationship discussions and stopping to ask directions. I’m not big on diamonds and I never went to cheer camp. I’d be lying if I said that I never had my girl moments. In Little Women, when Jo says, "I could never love anyone as I love my sisters"… I cry. I get teary eyed when I sing Silent Night, say the Pledge of Allegiance and every time I get my gas bill. I like to buy lovely old evening dresses that I will never wear. I collect tiny books. I have recently been openly mushy over a boy and get a little aggravated when he doesn’t get mushier over me. I pull gray hair out of my head at traffic lights and use Clearasil over my wrinkle cream. I eat lots of Oreo’s and then yell at my girls for shrinking my jeans in the dryer. I roll my eyes at my mom. That being said (and I am trying to be diplomatic), it seems that in the male-female rat race, we girls require a lot more maintenance than our male counterparts. There is a great deal of drama involved in being a female. If you doubt this, observe two Junior High girls at the mall. Girls seek out their reflection in anything shiny. They flick their hair. Girls spend a great deal of time talking about other girls in ways less than favorable. They talk about boys in less than favorable ways also—but that’s allowed and usually short-lived. It is a compulsion of the female sex to discuss every detail to its death, over-analyze the simplest of concepts, and make a mountain out of a mole hill. Girls tell each other’s secrets, compete rather than cooperate and look to Dr. Phil and Oprah for the answers to all of life’s most perplexing problems. Granted, as with anything and anyone, there are degrees to which people follow a pattern. If there weren’t, then I wouldn’t be collecting toolboxes and Metrosexuals wouldn’t be getting facials and having their eyebrows waxed at Elizabeth Arden. It’s not that boys are perfect. To be sure, they possess a long list of aggravating and unexplainable habits. For the most part, they are in universal agreement that there is no wrong time for a fart. They lack the sensitivity that we crave, criticize our driving and due to a poor sense of direction not only get us lost in the wrong part of town but require us to use a lot more bleach in the bathroom. I think that in my life I just like to keep things simple and when it comes right down to it, despite our efforts to make it difficult, boys are really a lot easier to understand than girls. Boys want to be respected and they want their space. They want the opportunity to look at the Victoria Secret catalog in peace and don’t want you to talk during a basketball game (unless they need a play-by-play while they are on the toilet). To a boy, "sex" can be used as a noun, verb, adjective or prepositional phrase. I was going to say "propositional phrase" but how corny would that be? You don’t have to go through a great deal of planning when entertaining boys. If they are under twelve you can talk about bodily functions and make gross noises. If they are over twelve you can talk about breasts. It’s not rocket science. Boys kill bugs. Boys eat an inordinate amount of beef and starch. They tune you out the minute you start talking about your diet, the shoe sale at Saks, or what was said around the water cooler after lunch. Quite honestly, who can blame them. Boys don’t like to be nagged, dragged, or too quickly bagged. When girls are in an argument there is rapid deployment of information. The battle lines are immediately drawn, adversaries and allies isolated, and weapons sharpened for attack. When boys are in an argument, they slug each other, drink some sort of beverage and it’s over. I so appreciate expediency. Why is it that boys have seemed to master the art of cooperating with one another a little better than we have? They are not quite so suspicious. We forgive them more easily and overlook flaws that we don’t in each other. Maybe, as girls, we have been raised with the notion that we must always prove ourselves instead of simply believing that we have something to offer. I wish that we as a sex would learn to relax a little more. To be confident without asking everyone’s opinion, tough without losing our gentleness, and vulnerable without the need for vindication. I wish that when we looked into the mirror we saw our inner beauty and not our outer flaws and I wish that we would allow men to be stupid once in a while without serving up their shortcomings every night for dinner. We are different, boys and girls, anyone with a pulse could tell you that. That’s what attracts us to each other in the first place. Then, for some reason, we alter the rules and start raising the bar just a little bit higher. How much time and therapy dollars do we spend trying to fix these things when we just need to understand each other and learn to live with them. I have a newsflash for you… it ain’t ever gonna change. Mignon McLauglin said it this way, "the hardest lesson learned: that people have only their kind of love to give, not our kind." I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have the soul of a boy and the truth is that when it comes right down to it, we are really not that different. I am certainly no sage. After all, I have spent two hours of gut-wrenching reflection on the subject of girls and boys and the best I can come up with is that boys kill bugs and girls let them. Perhaps, I have taken a simple concept and analyzed it until even professional ice skating sounds exciting. Maybe my children are right and I should be on medication. Maybe I am an old fashioned romantic or maybe I am simply looking for a reason to explain why no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get along with Oprah. God help me, I’m such a girl. |
posted by: supriya (reply)
post date: 10.13.04 (3:31 am)
come on! cheer up. whatever u do u will always be a girl cuz u are one!
posted by: shoplove (reply)
post date: 10.14.04 (3:33 pm)
this was soooo good! we gals can definitely be high maintenance, but i wouldn't change a thing! i really loved the "boys don't like to be nagged, dragged or too quickly bagged" part... very witty; very true.
Grace, beauty, humor, strength.
Alison Haley Cloud
Nov. 16, 1987-March 1, 2005
