Why I Am, Basically, A Guy

Now I am not one of those confused about my sex or sexuality people. I sympathize but I don't empathize with them. I was born a girl and like it that way. I would make a horrid guy for a multitude of reasons including:

1) Mice freak me out. Dead mice in traps are ever creepier.
2) I have no interest in learning how to change a tire {please don't lecture me that it is a life skill}
3) I read directions and have lived to tell the tale
4) I am not a fan of buffalo wings
5) A loud noise in the middle of the night does NOT beckon me to investigate. It tells me to either stay under the covers or to call someone with testicles.
6) I can talk on the phone FOR HOURS
7) I don't find bodily functions amusing in the least
8) I like chard
9) I don't get the Three Stooges, Jim Carrey or that Cable Guy
10) I will ALWAYS opt for cute over comfortable (this from the girl who wore heels in the snow while 9 months pregnant)

That being said, I do have a lot of traditionally masculine traits. For example, I can drive a standard and kick ass in math. As an aside, if you have daughters, don't discourage them at math and the sciences. The college majors that demand the highest salaries are the ones that have a math focus {and don't you want your daughters to be financially independent?} Oddly, I did not hear that girls were not supposed to be good at math until I was in college! Who knew such stupidity and antiquated ideas existed?

As an aside, I was getting tires once (no worries, I have outsourced this undesirable task to Hubby long ago) and the guy at the tire place saw my Calculus book and said, I kid you not, "I would never date a girl who liked math or was smarter than me."

"Well, on behalf of smart girls everywhere let me breathe a big ole sigh of relief." {Clearly, he did not get sarcasm. Too many vulcanized rubber fumes evidently.}

Stupidhead continues, "Girls who are too smart just piss me off."

"I can only imagine how long that much take. And you are so, well, desirable to math geniuses everywhere what with your minimum wage, grit beneath your nails job and all."

Fortheloveofgawd, doofus, know your audience. But, God bless him and all the other arrogant dummies of the world, I got a huge discount on my tires since he could not sort out that "Buy 3, Get 1 Free" was NOT the same as 75% off. Us math geeks might be alone on a Saturday night but at least we understand that 25% off is not the same as 75% off. {And, for the record, I have never spent my Saturday nights alone}.

However, my most guy-like traits are that 1) I am not a crier and 2) I get over stuff. Now, I still have estrogen and all so I am prone to tearing up when I hear that someone is pregnant, just had a baby, etc. But full blown bawling? Rarely. The last time I sobbed when Sweet Bebe went into ICU for RSV, before that it was when our dog died, before that... can't really recall full-blown tears. Before you get the idea that I am some kind of stoic ice princess, I honestly do have emotions. They just lean more toward the happy type as opposed to the drama kind. I simply struggle with coming up with more than one tear at a time.

The major upside to this {aside from not having a red, streaked face all the time} is when I do cry, Hubby takes notice. One tear and he is on full alert doing fixing whatever ails me. I don't think this would be the case if I were one of those women who cry for hours a week. Seriously, I would simply end up dehydrated and puffy. I just don't have that level of commitment to sadness.

Secondly, when I am peeved at someone. I GET OVER IT. How women can hold grudges for decades is beyond me. I get mad at Hubby for missing the laundry basket (and why do all men long to be the Michael Jordon of the boxer-tossing world? Would it kill them to simply walk those extra couple of feet to the basket instead of shooting their BVDs across the room? Seriously, I don't get this.} I get annoyed, I make my statement and I MOVE ON. Hubs will never hear me say "and remember the time you ...."

This is not simply because I let bygones be bygones. The real reason is that any statement I make that starts off with "Do you remember the time..." will, for sure, be met with "Uhhh, no" and the RCA dog look. I have learned over the years that it is not that Ken refuses to remember stuff, he simply does not have the ability to do so. Try as he might, he can't. So rather than stew about it, I have adapted. Now I simply state my annoyance and move on.

Though it is convenient to randomly say "Don't forget what tomorrow is." Since he does not know, he immediately rushes out to buy me a gift. The fact that, in reality, tomorrow is simply tomorrow and not a day of significance, means nothing to me. Evolution serves the smartest and most conniving. C'est voila!