Ever since as far back as I can remember, the men in my life have shown affection by a near-constant tirade of teasing. Relentlessly. Up until middle school, the problem that most boys had with me was that I was "too girly." I wanted to play baseball, but I was "too girly." (Even though I was better than half the boys on the team, but we won't call anyone out on that one.) I wanted to hang out with my older brother and his friends, but I was "too girly." (Looking back, this translated to: We don't want to run the risk of losing Duck Hunt to a girl, so you just can't play at all.) But all the while, my friends were guys. Like TJ White, who was my best friend up until I moved from Lafayette, Louisiana to Spring, Texas. He was the only one who stood up for me when our impromptu games of tag got a little too rough, although he was quick to deny it to anyone who would listen. (I remember there being a ditch, a lot of mud, and my mom was PISSED.)
Then, Middle School happened. My guy friends were still my friends, but now I was no longer "too girly," I was "one of the guys." Ah yes, the sweet, sweet victory. Right? Well, I thought it was for at least a little bit. Girls were jealous of me because I knew how to talk to the boys, and blah, blah, blah. Well that lasted for a whole three months. Suddenly, the boys started talking to me about the girls who were talking to me about the boys; it was like a never-ending game of hormone-ridden ping-pong. These girls, the ones that liked me because I was the gateway drug to the mysterious world of teenage boys, told me how jealous they were because boys only tease girls they like. I should have called bullshit right away. Because I knew that Matt Davis liked Haley H. And I knew that Haley thought Matt was cute, but she had her eye on Graham Williams (who by the way, strutted. Like, honestly.)
Yet, I was happy to register on their radar. And that is the way it was through high school. My uncles teased me. (Like the time I maybe crashed my Uncle Steve's motorcycle into my Uncle Jerry's house, maybe then tried to say I had no idea how the tire tracks got up the wall. Bad lie, in retrospect.) My cousins made fun of me. (Okay, so I don't like bugs. Is it necessary to chase me around with them and then call me a wuss? No. Cause I'm a freaking girl, remember?) Two brothers, both messed with me non-stop. The guys at school, the guys at work, and how did I try to combat this? I did what anyone would do, I sought them out.
I like what I like. Sports, technology, audio engineering. Shockingly enough, guys like these things, too. So I hung out with boys in high school, then I got a job where 75% of the employees were male. Then I went to a college that was 90% male. I chose a profession that is male-dominated. Because throughout the years, I guess I just got comfortable with being "that girl." The one girly-girls can't figure out. Still, I want to know: What is it about me? Men I don't even know can see it. Like a lion can smell fear, men can smell a target for mockery.
I guess this will just have to be the way that it is. I will always be the first one blamed when something breaks. I will always be the first target when men have an issue with women, and I will always be reminded of the time I ran a motorcycle into a house. (Okay, that last one might be fair game.)
1 comment:
You sure remember alot more about our childhood than I do. I would like to apologize about almost breaking your leg that one time though when you were 2 or 3 (or did you break it, I can't remember). There was alot of poor judgement on my part back in the day. I blame it on high fructose corn syrup.
-your older brother
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