Many years ago, I had very few female friends, and with what I would call good reason. Teenage girls are mainly assholes in designer clothing, who would think nothing of stabbing you in the back and blowing your boyfriend in the bathroom between first and second period while smiling sweetly at your face. Once I realized this, life became much easier.
I fell into a group of guys who I still lovingly refer to as The Metal Heads ™, and spent most of my free time with them (Man, I miss free time). My social life then consisted of sneaking off campus to smoke and eat a dozen soft shell tacos, watching terrible slasher movies, and listening to Tool’s ‘Opiate’ on repeat.
The hormones eventually kicked in, and these guys decided to find themselves girlfriends, to alleviate the horniness known only to teenagers. This presented no problem to me in theory (like Communism) until I realized that the addition of women would lead to complications in our friendships. And not on my end.
These girls were either insecure because their parents didn’t love them enough, or because they sensed that I was somehow their competition. Which was not even remotely the case. Because I cannot go back in time to correct their perceptions of me, I am publicly declaring to The Internet At Large that I had no desire to sleep with these guys. I still don’t. And truth be told, had I wanted to do this, I would have. Teenage boys are not known for their discriminatory tastes, instead preferring to stick it in anything (preferably not a couch cushion or sock), so believe me when I tell you that if I had wanted them to stick it in me, they would have. Happily.
Thankfully for my STD count (or really, my Other Count. You know, the People You Have Slept With Count?), however, I did have discriminatory tastes. I also (in a fit of complete clarity that even I cannot believe I exhibited as a teen) realized that sex would, in fact, complicate matters of personal friendships, and in knowing this, made a vow to myself never to allow my horniness to cloud my judgment. I would never, ever sleep with a friend. Even if I were horny enough to think that dry humping a pillow was a good idea. Period.
In not knowing this about me, though, these girlfriends were overtaken by incredible jealousy, that can only be sprung out of insecurity. It didn’t matter even a little bit if I had a boyfriend of my own, all these girls could focus on is my relationship with their boyfriends. The icy stares, the delibrete snubs, the protective ways they would touch their boyfriends while I was around, it was all the new normal dynamic when they would bring their women around. After awhile I got used to it.
It didn’t seem to matter that although The Metal Heads ™ and I would routinely send each other those school sponsored singing telegrams or carnations, the attached note would read something like “You suck” or “Your vag smells like tuna” with the occasional “To the only guy I know who can fuck a cheerio without breaking it” thrown in for good measure. All they could feel was their own seething jealousy that I might have something with their boyfriend that they did not. And it was true, while they had a physical relationship with them, I had a dynamic that one can only achieve in really great relationships or a friendship.
Thankfully, I am still friends with these guys 10-12 years later (three of them were in my wedding party), and they have moved on to date women who possibly can understand that mockery and insults don’t mean that they are having The Sexin’ with me. Maybe it’s that I’m happily married now, and am obviously posing less of a threat to their relationship. Or maybe it’s because we’ve all grown up a bit, and (most of us) are more secure in ourselves than we had been before.
But man, I really miss free time.
Am I the only one this has happened to? I swear to you on all that is holy that I although I routinely mocked the size of these guys packages, I did it without ever knowing what they really looked like underneath their clothes. For all I knew (and know), they could have Ken Doll underwear for privates or been hermaphrodites. It never came up in conversation, honestly.
C’mon, make your Aunt Becky feel better about herself.