There are many differences between girls and boys. Girls talk about feelings, boys do not. Boys fart loudly in public, girls [for some reason] do not. Girls put obstacles in the way of the simple things, boys say “Wanna bang?” and get on with it.
Most of the time, the best things I can say about my own gender begins by listing the Victoria Secret Angels and finishes with a block of chocolate and a hot water bottle.
I have always been a cheerleader for boys. And not just because I like seeing them naked (well, that to), but because I do believe that out of two sexes, they got it right first. Unless I have been grossly misinformed and it was a fair maiden who discovered fire.
My admiration for men-things is closely married to my curiosity for them. Nothing they do really makes any sense (other than when they are naked) to me. They don’t understand that two different types of stripes should not be worn in both a pant and a shirt, for example. They don’t understand that “The Golden Girls” was ahead of its time. And they don’t understand that chocolate was taught to doctors in Medication 101.
“Why don’t you have more female friends?” a relative enquired onceuponachristmas when I had returned home from playing beach cricket to pick up heels, lip-gloss a phone number.
“Social interaction is important to me,” I explained. “There is so much to learn. I want to know what it is like to be completely in control of emotions and completely out of control with gas.”
If I want to learn more about girls, I can stand naked in front of my mirror.
I began studying a philosophy masters degree because [I didn’t want to get a proper job and] my mind is consumed with the question “Why?” I have spent the last eight months applying my new [and evolving] knowledge to conversation when interacting socially and have since lost even more friends than when I simply wrote off an entire gender.
Deciding that it may be smart to graduate with knowledge that is applicable for scotch-time chit-chat, I made a date with my male guidance councillor.
“I want to take ‘Love, Sex and Relationships’,” I informed him while holding all the literature I would need to pass the class (Read: My Blackberry inbox).
“You are too experienced to take that class,” He informed me.
“I think you will find that I am not,” I fought. “Out of any class in any university in any world, this is the class I need to take.”
Apparently, the three things correlate. I plan to find out how.
And why[?].
When one is denied a formal education, to the field they must go [apparently].
“I haven’t had sex since God was a boy,” I wailed to my boy friend.
“I have no sympathy for you,” He mocked. “You are a girl. Just say that a little bit louder and the problem could be fixed in about four seconds.”
Boys seem to think that a girls announcement that she wants (Read: or, you know, needs) sex is all it takes to have everyone from George Clooney to a midget holding an umbrella making a cordially line behind a velvet rope. And that may be what boys want. But it isn’t what girls what.
“No,” I put my obstacle in the way of a simple solution. “Where is the fun in that?”
A boys approach to sex is, generally, very simple: Breathing. Preferably agreeable. Big boobs. Girls, however, for the most part, have a laundry list of necessities, no matter how eager they are to jump into bed with anyone from George Clooney to a midget. This is because boys see with their eyes but, for some unexplainable reason, girls see with their ears. Part of The-Estrogen-One’s list can be superficial: Nice body. Big arms. Third leg. But the deeper one goes, both metaphorically and literally, the closer one comes to finding both the real desire a girl has and, you know, hopefully, the G-spot.
“Just do what I do when I haven’t had sex in a day or two,” boy friend suggested. I really didn’t feel like playing World Of Warcraft. “Whack off.”
Boys can masturbate all day and every day if they have the remote control to change the channel and snacks close by. Girls, however, realize that they are only fucking themselves and eat a block of chocolate instead.
“I, at least, need someone else in the room if I want to get into That frame of mind,” I informed boy friend. “It is about having someone doing something, [anything], and adding mystery to it. It is about emotionally coming as well as physically.”
“I do not understand what you are saying.”
See, I am more romantic than you think.
Two such different approaches to love, sex and relationships is what makes life interesting. It is possibly one reason why I could never be a lesbian. Plus I figure that I could just stand naked in front of my mirror alone and therefore not have to deal with paying for two dinners if I ever became That desperate.
Because when two people [come together and] have no understanding of Why[?], only having the desire to explore, the best fire can be discovered.
And simple obstacles can be overcome.
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