One of the Boys
I am very masculine.
I grew up on Hot Wheels, Playmobil, and Pokemon. I’ve had a PS2, GameCube, Wii, Kinect, Game Boy, Nintendo DS, Xbox 360, Xbox One, and Nintendo Switch. I dove into all the popular video and computer games, but I’ve always leaned RPG over FPS. I’m pretty sure I was the only female flag football team captain in elementary school—and I was good. Still am. Just the other day I was throwing a football around and yep, still got it. I played sports for twelve years, and I was damn good at those too. I am direct, and unafraid to take charge. I know what I bring to the table, and I go after what I want.
I love fishing of all kinds. I’ve gone hunting. I know how to shoot a gun and a bow. I know my way around cars. I’m not afraid to get in the dirt. I used to be a powerlifter. I could probably chug a beer faster than you. I love dirt bikes. I could probably burp louder than you. I’d rather shoot pool at a dive bar with a lot of cleavage, tight jeans, and cowboy boots than sit through a ritzy dinner in a dress (though, if you take me out, I do love getting dolled up for a fancy dinner, too). I’d rather eat my weight in chicken wings and steak than pick at a salad. Sometimes I wear boxers. I like a well-tailored suit.
I love shows like South Park and Family Guy. I lived on Cartoon Network. I love Step Brothers, Anchorman, Blades of Glory—Adam Sandler, Andy Samberg, all that ridiculous humor. I love Star Wars, Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, and plenty of other nerdy shit.
And yes, I like women (shouldn’t be shocking to anyone). Gender and sex don’t matter to me. If I have a connection with you, then I have a connection with you. Simple as that.
And so, I’ve always felt more comfortable around men. And no, that hasn’t made my life easier. In fact, connection has been one of the hardest things to hold on to as a beautiful, masculine woman.
To this day, I’ve only ever had one (straight) guy friend who never tried anything with me—shoutout to Peter. The rest? Either they made a move and the friendship died, or we stopped talking for a long while and it never went back to what it was.
Men mistake my friendliness—literally me trying to be their friend—for flirting. I am a genuinely nice person. You seem cool? Great, let’s talk. I love asking questions. I love listening. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you. That doesn’t mean I’m flirting. It means I enjoy getting to know you. But time and time again, that’s been misunderstood, and it ruins everything.
And women—don’t even get me started—see their boyfriend, husband, or partner talking to me and immediately see red. There’s no room for compromise or understanding. And it doesn’t matter if the real issue is that they don’t trust their man, because the blame always lands on me. Wanna guess how many men have “had to” block me on social media? Or how many texts I’ve gotten that say, “we can’t be friends anymore, I’m sorry.”
What makes it worse is that I’ve always shown the men in my life genuine kindness and compassion. I’ve always said it: I am a break in reality. I love deeply, and I know it’s easy to get confused by that. I sit with you, I listen, I feel how much emotional pain most men carry. I see men for who they are, and for who they’re pretending to be.
I love women, and I will fight for women, but I still keep my guard up around women. I have a few incredible girlfriends who have my back no matter what, and I’m grateful for them. But men are still the ones I end up talking to the most, the ones I can just do stupid “dude shit” with. I want to laugh my ass off with people who share my humor—and nine times out of ten, that’s men.
It really doesn’t have to be that complicated.
