| Current mood: |  cheerful |
one of the boys
I have a confession to make. I have more than 10 boyfriends all at the same time. I am not one of those pretty faces. Neither am I what the conservatives would call “loose”. It’s just that I am blessed (cursed would be more like it) with a character that can easily be buddy-buddy with the opposite sex. The guys probably think I have the same hormones as they.
I’m just kidding, of course. After years of self-examination, I am absolutely positive I am a female. My anatomy says so and I have no desire to cavort with the same gender. I have long list of crushes whom I would dream about night and day. I’m normal, I believe. The problem is that the guys see me as one of them.
Sure, some girls might be envious of me because I am surrounded by guys. Guys don’t hesitate to talk to me as a pal. My bestfriend said she was almost jealous of me because I was closer to a male friend of ours. If she had only known, my life is no bowl of cherries. It’s like being stuck in a middle of a sale in a mall with just enough money for the ride home.
Male friends speak to me when they need an opinion about some girl. Okay, I’m not being fair to the guys. They don’t only talk to me about girls. We also talk about the latest movies, martial arts, schoolwork--- all the good stuff, you know.
I guess it was partly my fault. I was once in a phase when I was a hoyden. It was enough to terrify some of my childhood playmates. And it was enough to ruin my adolescent, and mercy me, my adult love life.
As a child, I hated wearing dresses (those frilly pink ones make me itch). I ended up wearing mostly jeans and shirts. I also had a smiling face so I was never taken seriously. Because of that, I learned to put an expression that says, “Mess with me and you’ll never see the light of day again”.
Through it all, I was very happy and secured being a “boy”. A boy had a better chance of being allowed to go on adventures. I noticed that my male cousin was allowed to climb trees, while his older and bigger sister wasn’t. Besides, I know that fathers preferred boys particularly for their eldest.
I’ve seen how dads treat their sons and daughters differently. I mean, girls are capable of taking care of themselves better than those sniveling boys but are treated as if they were wilting flowers. I told myself that I wont be treated that way. It wasn’t fun to be stuck in the sidelines watching other kids play rough-and-tumble games. So I went and climb a tree, and those adventures were the stuff legends are made of.
Eventually, I had to outgrow my uncomplicated life which allowed me to do virtually anything and enter a world of compromise.. it means that to make people notice me and accept me as one of them, I have to act, talk and move a certain way and join an appropriate crowd. Still, I persisted in doing what I enjoyed doing and what I thought was right.
There are some advantages in being one of the boys. First, you get to have lots of friends. And since you’re a girl, you’re treated like a kid sister. Instant big brothers are what you get without the hassle. You are also the object of envy of other girls because you can talk to the guys anytime you want without anybody speaking ill of you. And no matter how much you hang around with them, your reputation remains unsullied, at least as far as those who know you are concerned.
Now for the downside, correct the reputation part. Your reputation can still be butchered by some envious hag. But then, since I know I’m not doing anything immoral, who cares about them?
The worst is when you fall for someone who only thinks of you as a kid sister--- and a hoyden at that (sob). That’s bound to happen when you are so close and get together so often. He was really nice to me and all. But it turned out that he still thought of me as a kid who chewed gums and liked boxing.
Did I do anything to win his affection? Absolutely not. If I changed, he would have thought I was doing it all for him (I have my pride, you know). And since he told everybody that I’m not a female, I played the tomboy part of the hilt. I enjoyed his discomfort as I hang around with my own “big brothers” and ignored him or insulted him. Served him right for treating me that way.
I think I ought to be hanged. I mean, I’m acting immaturely. Maybe someday I’ll learn to act differently. But I don’t want to change overnight and make everybody feel like the end of the world is near.
Now, I have started wearing skirts and stopped wearing my hair short. It’s been a year since, and in another year or two my hair will probably reach down to my waist. I hope that before that happens, guys will no longer see me as one of them.
(Read comments)
|
