I was never what you might call a girly girl. It seemed silly to me to be a big German-build farm girl and then to try going around acting prissy. It wasn't that I didn't want to be into pretty things, makeup and ruffles and all that; I really craved it. But I felt like a fool and a faker, certain that people would laugh at me behind my back if I tried to act girly. As a result, I developed a kind of tough, remote exterior that was off-putting to some, especially other girls. Shopping, makeup, hair: all that stuff was just beyond me. I have only had a few really close girlfriends; on the other hand, I've had a lot of boy friends, which is not the same as boyfriends, of course.
Maybe part of the issue was that I had a little brother who I treasured and spent a lot of time with. He was more into outside stuff, but we often played games together and had almost no conflicts. While I had some good girl friends at school, I spent a large portion of my elementary years riding all over the pastures at home on our motorcycles with Bo and our friend Danny, who was like another brother in our family. We tore around jumping pond dams and daring each other to act out stupid stunts. In the winter, Dad or Danny's step-dad Kenneth would pull us over snow and ice on an ancient pickup hood, or we'd play pool in the basement rec room. Danny taught me how to bridge a deck of cards when I shuffled. After I changed schools for fourth grade, we were neck-and-neck academic competition for each other, in the same class for the rest of our school years. Our parents hung out together, so we were the best of friends until Danny discovered alcohol much earlier than I did. Although we hadn't seen each other in probably ten years when he died, his suicide when we were just 30 was heart-rending.
I didn't start dating until I was in college, and that was also when I discovered having close male friends as an adult was practical and fun. I learned a LOT more about the world from guys I worked with both at Rogers and NSU; plus, there was the added bonus of always having someone to dance with! My academic team at Rogers included Steven, a computer geek, and Don, a pre-med major. Steven gave me a very basic intro to technology; Don, the entree into a class called Word Origins that taught me worlds about the English language. And this isn't even counting the wide range of people I worked with at the on-campus radio station.
At NSU, I found Wally and Dean, who I spent ridiculous amounts of time with at the river, at the lake, at Granny's Attic (anyone familiar with Tahlequah in the '80's knows that establishment), and at concerts and clubs in Tulsa. We had more fun than any three people should have in a lifetime. John and Anthony were like an older and younger brother; Tom was an unofficial mascot for all kinds of groups; a dozen other guys came and went in that twilight culture that college was as I worked straight through to my Master's degree.
Unfortunately, what I didn't realize at the time was that this was not a permanent state of affairs. I dated none of these friends, though I loved them all dearly in some way or another. And once college was over, we all tended to drift. Girlfriends and wives don't usually take well to their men having female friends, no matter whether we were friends first. One friend was deeply hurt that none of us in a large circle of long-term friends came to his wedding; when it was finally brought up, we had to tell the truth: his wife didn't send invitations to any of us.
As an adult, I've only found it harder to make new male friends. The married ones don't have time or a need for it; the single ones think I'm hitting on them, an idea that I find appalling and humiliating. And that's really a surprise to me. I don't prance around and act flirty (see paragraph 1); I wouldn't even know how to do that. I don't need a man to run my life, but it would sure be fun to find one to run with again.
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