During one of our famous, rambling conversations one of my man-pals dared to criticize my blog posts.
Imagine that my luscious little plums?! A man brave enough to make a suggestion to the woman who is known for her scathing tongue and
hot sexy temper.
But that’s the kind of friendship we have. We talk about EVERYTHING. Like everything, EVERYTHING. Yesterday the conversation started with me saying, ” I hope you’re on the toilet because what I’m going to tell you is going to make you….”. I’m sure you have a good enough imagination to figure out how that sentence ends.
My friend, let’s call him _________________, suggested that although 55% of my readership is male, I frequently direct my posts to ‘gal-pals’. Just to clarify, when I use terms of endearment such as darling, sweet little peaches or plums, I am indeed including my mysterious man-pals in the group.
Just a note to my male readers, I picture you all as cowboys, sophisticated southern gentlemen in smoking jackets, or cute little younger kittens who are mute and have washboard abs.
Although I give loads of credit to my dear gal-pals for keeping me out of a permanent psychiatric facility for the fabulously insane, I do have some pretty darn incredible man-pals. As a matter of fact, the past few days have been man-pal packed. I’ve had lunch and coffee, relaxed and watched a movie and had long, sprawling telephone conversations with my man-pals. They too keep me sane, and nurture my very natural and dominant tom-boy side.
There are indeed obstacles to overcome if you have friends of the opposite sex, or the ‘sexual’ persuasion that you’re attracted to. In fact, some of my man-pals and I have test-driven the highway of carnal hell and decided to keep things on the ‘let’s stay clothed’ side. Once pride is knocked out of the way, we’ve developed wonderful friendships.
Unlike my gal-pals who see my stubborn nature and my ferocious ‘go for it’ attitude as motivating, most of my man-pals get a little kick out of my temper. Coming off of a huge passionate rant, one of my man-pals once commented, “I get such a kick out of you when you lose it. It’s hilarious man.”. The same man-pal takes the battle of the sexes to a fun-at-the-fair-muddy-tug-of-war level, and we have hysterical conversations. God bless him.
If you haven’t already figured it out, I’m a pretty straightforward gal. I like to put my cards on the table, and expect my friends, acquaintances and colleagues to function without pretence. In the past I’ve been accused of being blunt, naïve and having high expectations.
Yes, I think, as I nod my pretty little head, I am indeed all of these things. Of course being blunt, naïve, and having high expectations can be troublesome, it can be wonderful too, especially when you find kindred spirits who share the same expectations, disappointments and joys as you.
Would I say that my man-pals are a good check and balance to the strong-feminine energy that my gal-pals and I exude? Perhaps, but I don’t see it that way. My pals are my pals regardless of the shape of their underpants, soft and frilly or masculine and tight ( oh sweet love of Mary, now there’s a thought to make your hearts go pitter-patter!). In fact, I could care less how my friends gender-identify, they are all human, lovely, and wonderful! I think some of my pals don’t even wear underpants most of the time….but I digress…perhaps that last bourbon didn’t have enough ice?
My man-pals help me with my man-issues. I can run by the ultimate single in your 30’s and 40’s question, “What the hell was that?! Was that supposed to be a date?”, and trust them to give a no-nonsense answer. Usually it’s one of the following;
1) Yes you dumb ass, he was trying to be romantic.
2)Hell if I know, he sounds screwed up.
3)No, don’t be stupid, he just wanted to get in your pants.
My man-pals can be counted on to soothe my fears and tears and provide the same solutions as my gal-pals to my rare weepy rants;
1) Oh sweety, I wish I was there to give you a hug.
2) Are you crying? You never cry.
3) Hahaha. Don’t be silly, you’re fabulous and you know it! Fuck’em.
My man-pals do often give beauty advice much different from that of my gal-pals. When I make negative statements about my body;
1) Who cares about a couple extra pounds, you’re jiggliscious and lots of guys want to jump your bones.
2) So what,work it off with a little sex.
3) Get off your ass.
My man-pals are as glorious, wonderful and priceless as my gal-pals. They offer me a balanced male energy, and maybe, just maybe, one day, one of them might turn into the man of my dreams. More bourbon please.
So, for any of my man-readership who have felt marginalized or offended by any of my posts, I sincerely and deeply apologize. Regardless of what treasure you hide below the belt, you are all my sweet, succulent little plums, and I wouldn’t change any of you for the world.