~Monday, July 18, 2011

One of the Guys

In the midst of my summer drought, I've been accepted as one of the guys. With the exception of Lawyered, the new kickball team is composed of commercial airline pilots. They're fun to look at, but they are also monster whores so I was quick to keep my distance.

Thursday night I was sandwiched in between two of the said whores at our bar. They were eyeing the new waitress. I got to hear this conversation:

Whore 1: Did you see her?
Whore 2: Yeah.
Whore 1: She's got a nice body.
Whore 2: Not so much the face though.
Whore 1: Yeah, but the body is nice.
Whore 2: Big hips.
Whore 1: Birthing hips...

It was this point I wheeled around and shot them the stink eye. They had picked apart this girl's appearance (who I would easily say is hotter than me) in minute detail. I thought women were our own worst enemies. Not true! Who needs us tearing ourselves apart in the mirror when we have boys doing it for us?

I didn't know guys were capable of this. They don't notice your noticeable haircut. They don't know the details of the gossip they are relaying to you. But they can wax poetic about the shape of this girl's chin and her "birthing" hips (which, once again, were smaller than mine).

And I was privileged to the entire conversation because I am "one of the guys." Great.


Saturday night I pulled in front of Schmoozer's best friend's house. He met me outside and we climbed into his car. He began driving us to the bar.

"Wait, aren't we picking up Schmoozer?" I asked.

"We can."

"He's been day drinking with y'all's coworkers. If we don't go get him, he won't make it to meet us."

He shot a look at me from across the front seat. "You understand he's with a group of six guys who have been drinking all day, right?"

"So what? We'll just pop in and get him."


We turned into the house where they were. We got out of the car. I was dressed for Saturday night at the bar, not for Saturday night at some dude's house. I was wearing my Fuck Me dress that both plunged at the neckline and barely covered my tush. I tried to pull the dress down. My heels sank into the grass, aerating the yard.

There they were in the backyard. A tiki torch, a cooler of beer and six guys sitting in lawn chairs positioned in a circle. I saw six heads turn around and watch me approach. The conversation stopped.

Schmoozer was too housed to acknowledge me or to tell the guys who this strange girl was in their backyard. One guy jumped out of his lawn chair and gave it to me. He went and stood by the best friend.

The six guys then swarmed.

Apparently the guys near the best friend covertly asked him who I was and congratulated him for dating me (Ha!). He explained we were just friends.

Then the pack asked me how I knew him.

"I know him through Schmoozer," I said, pointing to the boy who couldn't see straight. It was hilariously awkward that I was there for Schmoozer, yet he was too incapacitated to greet me.

I sat in the lawn chair. Immediately I was handed a bottle of Bushmills and a Red Stripe. I swigged from the Bushmills bottle and passed it to the next guy. All eyes were staring at me. It felt very satisfying. I felt wanted and datable. They were congratulating the best friend on me. ME.

Then they started behaving like guys. I don't know what that means. Inappropriate. Vulgar. It wasn't low brow because I can swig whiskey from a bottle and tell a good dead-baby joke with the rest of them. Things just got weird very quickly. They were in a circle quick-firing questions at me. I couldn't fully answer one before another guy asked another. And they weren't normal questions; they were oddly specific. I didn't know their intentions of the conversation and I began to feel uncomfortable.

I kept turning around and making Danger Eyes at the best friend, but he wasn't looking at me. I couldn't get him to make eye contact. I was going to have to get out of there on my own.

I stood up and placed my empty beer bottle on the picnic table.

"Aw, you're leaving?" they asked.

"Yup, we're moving on."

"You'll be at the bar for awhile? Maybe we'll meet you there."

"We'll be there."

Schmoozer didn't want to go. He said he was still drinking free beer and didn't want to go to a place where he had to pay for it. He said he'd meet us there later.

Best Friend and I got into the car. "Ugh!" I sighed.

"I told you!" he laughed.

"I've been around guys. I just didn't think it was going to be like... that."

"The guy who gave you his chair—he's married—he came up to me and told me to take you out of there and that you were ready to leave."

"I was! I was giving you the signal!" I patted the top of my head like Elaine did in Seinfeld, but he didn't get the reference. "I was giving you Danger Eyes!"

Boys are gross.


Charlotte (Lilly) said...

That's funny! Well no, it's not. I meant funny as in I can identify. Wanting so badly to be 'one of the guys' and then wanting desperately to lobotomize the part of my brain that was privy to all the information that accompanied that privilege. Ugh is right. You'll never look at them the same again...and maybe that's a good thing. ;)

Je m'appelle Danielle said...

Boys are disgusting, you need to use the signal from Garden State, the pull on the ear, it works every time.

Bathwater said...

I'd have to agree with you but then again I never I never find myself in those circles either.

Anonymous said...

You need to not be one of the guys.

J said...

I don't have that many male friends, but the ones I do have- when they hang out in a group of guys, they are basically just disgusting apes. Like you, I especially hate when they deconstruct a girl's appearance in front of me. Like they're freaking George Clooney! Get a mirror, douches.

jo said...

i feel you... i don't consider myself to have many guy friends but somehow guys in general like to share with me and make me privy to information that makes me think that they're all whores.

Syd said...

I have four brothers, so I'm used to dealing with loads of boys (and like having guy friends, for the most part, they are fun and no bullshit). But, yeah, the risk is becoming one of the guys, which sucks. I don't need to be coddled, but I definitely don't want guys to forget I'm a girl and say every last vulgar thing in their heads. So somehow I end up finding myself in the sister role, which is kind of the best of both worlds. (if you don't want to date them, naturally).

Me said...

Your summer is certainly interesting. I definitely prefer to not be one of the guys.;)

nuttycow said...

Meh - I like being one of the guys, most of the time. However, it can get eternally frustrating when they forget that actually you're fabulous and gorgeous and FEMALE!

Have fun with the boys though - one thing I'll say for men, for all their faults, they're incredibly loyal.

heisschic said...


been there. once. stopped by a party to say hi to my ex from hs (why? WHY?!? still bothers me). his friends started the rapid fire- too personal-- too detailed questions... the ex was livid. "you f*ing look at her wrong and i'll" blah blah blah. wasn't protective, either. was creepy.

sooo yea. boys are gross.

Simm said...

The constant theme I find with guys is that they are predictable when faced with a pretty girl: they think with their penis!

Being one of the guys is definitely not all that it's cracked up to be

Anonymous said...

boys will be boys...
lets find you a man!

Anonymous said...

I agree.

Glad you could glean some good vibes whilst you were feelin' hot, though.


Anonymous said...

I have been "one of the guys" for years...sometimes we just don't need that much insight into how men work :-P

Anonymous said...

They are really really gross.

Breeza said...

EW. Makes me glad I'm a girl.

Charlotte said...

Yes, yes they are. At least you got out of there when you did. I always felt like one of the guys, too, but then it means we're privy to things we probably wouldn't want to know. Then again, hanging with a bunch of girls has it's own set of problems :)

Angela said...

I tend to feel when I'm being sized up like that, and I have to force myself to not say something and only draw more attention to myself. I think it happened the other evening. I hate it when they act that way.

HomeImprovementNinja said...

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/214752c73f/guy-talk?rel=by_user was it something like this?

Anonymous said...

98% of my male friends are gay and, hearing the atrocities that come out of their mouths, I can only imagine what the breeder boys would say.

I'd stick to your small circle of boys, and steer clear of the mobs of men. No one needs *that* much insight into the mind of the heterosexual male.

Paige Jennifer said...

My guy posse has dwindled to a mostly gay clan (similar to Freckled). But when I did hang with straight boys on a regular basis, they tended to keep their comments to themselves. But don't go thinking they respected women. I once accompanied two guy friends to a strip club and they both proceeded to make paper airplanes out of dollar bills and aim them at the crotches of dancers spreading their legs. Total out of body experience.

This comment makes me want to reconsider lesbianism.


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