A while ago I was talking with my school's Basketball coach and Lake, one of my sister's best friends. Lake was telling Coach (with a great deal of pride) about how she has a knife that is bigger than one of her male classmate's knife. My response to this was "I can't have a knife, because whenever Daddy lets me use his, I can't figure out how to close it." This was met with laughter and a derisive snort. I realized this was not my first "girl moment" of the week.
That Sunday evening I was talking with three boys who were a bit ruffled by having to miss the Superbowl for small groups. I informed them that I had "never heard of the Ravens". They responded as one appalled voice: "The BALTIMORE Ravens" as if by saying it with enough emphasis, I would immediately be infused with a knowlege of who was on this team, their past athletic achievements, and who is the best thrower of them all.
These unfortunate/entertaining moments have been occurring more and more frequently in the last few months as I have started hanging out with more guys. (Because sometimes, they are more fun and less stressful-- my beautiful and crazy-talented bestie Erin agrees with me) (Also, read her blog. Because it's awesome. And I like it, which means, by extension, you people should like it too.) (Also, besides my devotion to the word "also" you should also be aware of my love of parentheses.) I take an almost malicious pleasure in tossing out ridiculous statements about myself and my exercise habits when they talk about their sports practices.
(Generic Male Friend):(also I love colons)"I had to run 3 miles today"
(Me):"I start wheezing after 30 feet. Also, I hate my running shoes. They just aren't even a little cute."
GMF: "The other day I went shooting with my (insert gun name here). It was awesome!"
M:"My Daddy has some guns."
GMF: "Really? What kind?"
M:"I don't know--one is really long, and the other is small, and they're both really loud. The last time my family went shooting I stayed home and did the dishes instead. Way more fun."
GMF: "My abs are a little sore from all the workouts we did this week."
M: "I can't physically do a sit-up"
This unfortunate reality has caused my back to hurt. Because of babysitting.
Saturday night found me babysitting an adorable 5 week old named Claire. I was lying flat on the couch, with the baby asleep on my chest, when I realized it was time to heat up her bottle before she woke up hungry. To accomplish this, I needed to sit up. I needed to sit up smoothly, to not awaken the 12 pounds of baby on my chest. This was going to be no easy feat. I tried unsuccessfully several times, before finally bracing my foot under the coffee table for leverage. I rose. But now my back hurts.
I was reminded the other day of how well I had trained Deke, the boy I attended 3 years of high school with (he's in a band--if you like rock stuff, check it out). We were catching up over starbucks when I remembered I had to get cat food.
M: I need to run to Target to grab some cat food. Mr. Fuzzy is getting mad-want to come with me?
D:You want me to carry the cat food bag, don't you?
M: (hadn't actually thought that far ahead) Yes. Yes I do.
Deke has learned the hard way it's easier to just help me out rather than try to toughen me up. I spent several months making sure he arrived at every door we encountered first, until he naturally opened doors for me. Once, when I arrived at school to find my chair had uneven legs, I requested that Deke or Mark (my other well trained minion) replace it for me. In a moment of unprecedented rebellion, they refused. And so I rocked that chair back and forth for almost 10 minutes, until Mark broke and replaced it for me. As with all my girl battles, I won.
This lifestyle of enforced chivalry is a choice. Some of my friends will struggle to open a water bottle or move something heavy, working hard to accomplish the task and completing it, they say, with a sense of pride. Me, I just find the nearest male. Most of the time they are happy to be of use. Luckily, I don't really care if they're not. I also don't care if they think I am weak. Because facts are, they are all stronger than me. And I will shamelessly use that fact to further my lifestyle of ease and comfort.
(My little brothers are pretty good at assisting me too. See my post on MEN.)
