Something funny happened to me recently. I haven’t decided if this falls under the funny ha-ha or the funny peculiar category. However, it definately fits into the funny and darn embarassing category.
It was about the 5 things meme or Tag 5 as I called it, which I posted just previously. Meggie wanted to tag me for the meme and this is what she said, “Now, I am supposed to nominate 5 more I would like to do this meme.So here goes. No pressure!”
She then proceeds to nominate 5 bloggers of her choice and she named yours truly as No: 1. What a priveledge indeed!
Meggie then follows that up with the following, “I hope this is not an imposition. I was going to choose a man, as they can alway give a nice twist to the mix, but perhaps next time.”
Uh, excuse me Meggie…….. last time I checked ……. I’m still a male. Ooooooooo. This traumatic event, this challenge to my maleness has brought back terrible flashbacks from my youth. Meggie, if you read this post, you will learn why I was not entirely devastated…………..I’ve had practice!
During my sensitive formative years of 6-10 years old, I had very few friends of my own age and because of my upbringing, I had rare opportunities to play with them. My sister who is 8 years older, on the other hand, was always having her friends over or going out with them. As she was frequently asked to keep an eye on me, it meant that often, I was thrusted upon their giggling sessions. Needless to say, she wasn’t very happy about this. I soon learnt that it was less physically painful for me if I kept quiet and blended into the background. I kind of became an inanimate fixture and the girls became more at ease to be themselves and share their gossip even when I was around.
Having no macho comrades to rely on, my survival depended on going under the radar. This experience had no doubt given me certain skills and shaped my personality to a degree.
Try as I might, I continued to find myself the sole male in a company of women many times in my life. When I was first in the U.K. trying to do my A-levels, I was thousands of miles away from friends and family. A local family, the Sweetmen’s, invited me to spend Sundays with them so that I could enjoy a family environment because otherwise I would spend my weekends alone in an empty dormitory. They were wonderful but the Sweetmen’s had three daughters and no sons. As a result, my social education often focussed on the proper way to wear mascara or how to avoid getting runs in their stockings.
At university, it was the same. A combination of types of courses taken and housing locations often meant that socially, I hung out with a bunch of female nurses more than anyone else. When I first started work, I faced a four hour bus commute every day. Fortunately, someone offered to give me a ride in their carpool. I am sure that you had already guessed that I was the only male in the all-female carpool. Such was my priveledge and my fate to be in their company for about 2 -3 hours every working day for the next two years. These are just some examples.
There were obviously some advantages of being so readily excepted within these female circles. Pleaseant and pretty company is always good. Occasional homemade cookies are a nice bonus and there are many disadvantages too.
You might be wondering is this guy a whiner? Male readers might think I am being an ungrateful sod or that this situation is like Pooh Bear falling into a big vat of honey and complaining that its too sticky. Of course, few real men would actually admit about thinking about Pooh Bear but I digress.
I can share with you some of the disadvantages. High on the list is learning things that men have no business knowing. It’s bad enough when they talk about their boyfriend problems but you really don’t want to hear about female hygiene problems. It gets worse, I have had to fight nausea and passing out when they start giving a blow by blow account of their caesarian section ably illustrated by uncensored photos in full colour. Obviously, violent Hollywood movies have not desensitised me enough yet.
However, the very worse thing and the source of all my bad memories that this recent incident in blogland has resurrected is that you are accepted by them. How is that bad? Picture if you will a single, eligible young man. It does not matter if he is in his late teens or even his early thirties, he does not want to be accepted as one of the girls. No! No! No! That is so not right.
The problem with being accepted as one of the girls is that they no longer see you as a man but as a pal. This is like the death sentence to a young man trying to make an impression on the dating scene. He is putting himself 100 percent out there to send the message that he is all male and ready to rumble. He is the proud peacock flashing his testosterones in hope of attracting female company. What he does not need is having a new girl ask the rest of the girls who he is and to hear them reply, “Oh, him? Don’t worry. Relax. It’s just LGS. He’s harmless.”
“Harmless!?! What? Harmless!?! At this stage, you look around desperately to do something to try to convince the new girl that you are not harmless. “Hey, new girl. Beware! I’m dangerous! Yes, beware. Keep away because I am not harmless!”
But it is too late. The damage is done. It’s like someone had plucked all the peacock’s fine feathers and the nude bird is strutting around like a harmless fool.
Oooo. Let me tell you. That phrase “He’s harmless” still gives me cold sweat.
So, beware of the squirrel………….please? Pretty please with honey on top?