Like A Bulldog...Only I Wear A Skirt

We lost. And we lost big time. Last Saturday a group of us stood outside the hockey rink bemoaning a 6 goal loss to the other team. There were about six of us waiting for our friends to come out. To pass the time, we deftly made fun of our own team’s lackluster play. Finally, our friend Dave came out. As a matter of friendly honesty, we all booed him. Taking the gesture as our twisted sign of affection, he laughed and waved.

The others immediately started in on him. We had been egging Dave on in the final period to just hit someone (despite the fact it is a no-check hockey league). We were joking…but we gave him crap for it anyway. Heckling is our favorite pastime and we don’t care if you’re friends with us or not. As one of us is always apt to say during the game, “We eat our own young.”

We stood around in a circle going over the game that had been played. One of the primary reasons we lost was because half the team didn’t show up. Dave remarked to us, “We were hanging in there the first period. Then the fatigue started to set in.” Absentmindedly, Dave’s hand went to his side and rubbed a sore spot.

The group murmured in agreement. A chuckling voice rose out of the hum and asked, “Hey, Dave…your hip hurt?”

“What?”

“Does your hip hurt?” Dave shook his head in askance of why. “Oh, I just figured it would be sore since you guys spent most of the game bent over taking it from behind.”

A groan erupted from the group. Everyone turned in the direction of the insult. By normal standards, it was a pretty weak punch. Being the only girl in the group willing to throw down earned me more leeway and definitely a respect other women would not. But it’s always been this way. I have always had an aggressive streak in me. When the guys draw a line, they dare me to cross it. It never fails. They start the cut down war…I always intend on finishing it.

Said one of my college friends about my no-holds barred attitude, “You’re like a bulldog…except you wear skirt.”

But that’s the charm of being the only female friend in a group of guys.

I’m used to being the only skirt in the crowd. When I was growing up, I always wanted to be better than the boys or at least keep up with them. Then from high school forward, I just realized that guys were a lot easier to get along with than the girls my age. I guess it’s true what Chris Rock said, “Women hate other women.” In my case, I just didn’t want to deal with the futile drama about who was crushing on who or what flavor lip gloss goes with what Esprit shirt (as you can tell, my shopping addiction is only a recent discovery). So an end result of this preference is that most of my closest friends have been guys.

A lot of female acquaintances wonder what a guy friend could offer that a girl friend couldn’t. Elusive Orchid shares my view on the guy friend phenomenon. “They don’t give a shit what you look like. They’ll share dirty jokes with you. They give you insight on both men and women. And they don’t have all the drama that comes along with being friends with a woman.”

Perhaps it’s easier because we don’t have to compete with guys (even if they are gay). Think about it ladies: You’re going with your friends on a Saturday night. As you get dressed your mind wanders. What are your friends going to wear? How is Sue going to her make-up? Then when you get to the bar or wherever you’re going, what happens? You’re all fishing in the same pool. You can’t tell me that the air of competition isn’t there and that you’ve never been hurt by the fact your best girl friend just made out with the hottie you were drooling over all night.

I find that guys are also completely uncomplicated and they have no censor. When you ask them a question, they pretty much give you a one sentence answer. And despite what popular television would have you believe, it often makes sense. Why? Guys don’t bother themselves with too many details. Which is probably why they’ll blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. When I have to answer one of my female friends, my mind automatically takes into consideration their feelings, their mood, and how I need to couch an answer so they don’t start crying on me. Gah! It’s just so much work!

Maybe I like having guy friends simply because I don’t have to try as hard to be myself around them. How many times have you bit your tongue when your female friends ask, “Do these jeans make me look fat?” Guys don’t care…they’ll still look at your ass! And that’s not really a bad thing if you think about it. At least someone’s noticing. When I’m with my guy friends, I don’t have to worry about being delicate or careful or even politically correct. You social inhibitions tend to disappear.

Whatever my deep seeded reasoning is, I still enjoy having guy friends. There’s just something about being the Shirley MacLaine in your little Rat Pack. Once guys accept you as one of them, all the confusing stuff about them disappears. They actually just become people to you.

I’m not saying that I despise having girl friends. It’s just hard to relate to them. Up until just very recently, I’ve never met any females that match up with my personality. The girl friends that I do have are similar to me. We don’t like drama, we don’t like pettiness, and we hate codependency. No matter what anyone tells you, friendship is an actual relationship. It takes work to cultivate it and there are people who are compatible and people who should just never be in the same room for five minutes alone.

While there isn’t a stigma in today’s society about having mainly males as your friends, it does often still get you looked at funny. But that’s okay. Friendship is all about who you’re comfortable hanging out with. I’m comfortable with their burping, their rude jokes, and their scratching. They’re perfectly comfortable with me when I’m not exactly all there, stressed out, or being a princess about things. That’s beauty of all friendships. Whether you’re male or female, there is an honesty that pervades your relationship. And that’s what makes the friendship worth it. In the end, it’s like Oscar Wilde said, “A true friend stabs you in the front.”

In your guy friend’s case…a true friend will burp in your face.