Hi, I’m Will. You remember that awkward kid in second grade who smelled like beef bouillon cubes and had a strange rash above his lip that never went away? Well, no, that wasn’t me (I was the one wearing women’s ankle socks over his pant legs) but if it was, I would be totally fine with it because that’s just how I am: someone who harps on the past as little as possible. Anyway, you probably know me a little better now, and, in case anyone was curious, I’m suddenly appearing on Cloudyday dot org not because I am an amazing hacker but because Emma was kind enough to grant me a spot on this here lovely site of hers. For that, I thank her, and will try my hardest not to disappoint or say anything incriminating against because—let me tell you boys and girls—there is so much to tell I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Ok, I’m lying about that but, still, if there was, I wouldn’t mention it because I can keep a secret. That’s another thing about me: I keep secrets.
Anyway, let’s talk about girls. Yesterday, I spent nearly my entire day hanging out with three of them. They taught me more about the female psyche in those seven hours or so than I probably have learned in all of my psychology classes combined, even when you toss in Reviving Ophelia (which I read in its entirety). This is what I learned.
1. Girls have crazy endurance.
2. They are very much accepting.
3. They are quite wise in their weird ways.
The first one I learned thanks to Emma. She completely smoked me on our 5k through Edgartown. Emma actually has one of those little I-Pod thingys that goes in your shoe and tells how many miles you’ve ran (or in my case, walked). The second she whipped that puppy out I knew I was in trouble. She also has a fairly thick runner’s guide which actually teaches you how to run. Since when can people be taught how to run? Isn’t that knowledge in our genes or something? Girls have crazy endurance.
The second I learned thanks to Kate (whose name I can’t really spell). According to Kate, when the ratio of guys to girls in a group is one to three, the male in said group is automatically considered either a “pimp” or “homosexual” by people not associated with the group. I have been accused of being both, at one time or another, but this knowledge did not seem to deter the girls from accompanying me into town. In fact, Kate even instructed me how to walk if I was going to play the role of a homosexual properly (apparently I was not geared well enough for being a pimp—yet another reason to carry around a cane). Girls are very much accepting.
The third I learned thanks to Simona. I’m fairly certain Simona is The Dalai Lama reincarnated. On our way to some blueberry ale, courtesy of The Newes in Edgartown, Simona stopped at every single flower within arms reach to take a whiff. Now, I get the whole flower thing. They are pretty, and smell nice, and somehow make girls forgive us gents for doing bad things, but really…are they that great? I didn’t think so until I realized that perhaps the reason she stopped so frequently for this colorful, aromatic object was not because of the object itself, but because in this moment of cessation the day can be savored instead of scarfed down like cheap Chinese takeout. “Stop and smell the roses,” the saying goes. Girls are quite wise in their weird ways.
Posted on June 20th, 2008 by Will
Filed under: Guest Blogging | 9 Comments »
I never considered myself southern until I temporarily migrated to New England this summer.
