Where are my male friends?
Since I became a mother, I have been surrounded by women. Make no mistake; they are fabulous, smart, funny ladies, but I feel out of my element. I am not used to so much oestrogen around me.
One upon a time, in a former life, I was surrounded by boys, and later, by men. But they were not boyfriends, or partners or lovers. They were my friends, who just so happened to be male. When everyone had boyfriends, I had friends who were boys.
I had female friends, too of course. But when I was with them, I felt like I always had to watch what I was wearing, how I was speaking and behaving. They say women are better at picking up social cues. I don’t know if it’s true but it felt true to me then. The downside of this is that they expect everyone to be just as good as social relationship as they were and I just wasn’t.
Men seemed easier. They either ignored me or they liked me not because I behaved in a certain way but just because I was smart and they could talk to me. I was the typical female friend boys came to talk about their failed relationships, or sought advice on how to woo girls. Not that I was any smarter about relationships than they were. I was shy and socially awkward. Figuring out how relationships work was hard for me. The girls were too complex. But having a boyfriend seemed even more confusing. Romantic relationships seemed so messy, complicated and well, all kinds of weird.
Friendships with men sounded like a perfect deal for me. I got the male attention I was undoubtedly craving, but it felt safe: no one would touch me and no one would hurt me. I would meet them for coffee or lunch and it was kind of nice to think that other people thought we were a couple. But I never fooled myself that I wanted more than that and besides, who would be romantically interested in a mousy, petite, bespectacled girl like me?
For a long time, it seemed no one would. And at some point, being mere friends with men wasn’t enough. I wanted more. My male friends stayed my male friends but I was sick and tired of always being lonely.
I had my first real boyfriend when I was 22. It was a friend of a friend and for some reason we got together during a trip my friend and I organized. I think the reason was that his girlfriend left him and I was feeling lonely.
Obviously, it’s a horrible reasons to be with someone, and he broke up with me after a month or so. I was heartbroken.
I know it’s ridiculous now, but it didn’t seem to me that way at the time. I finally got over the break-up and found the confidence to choose solitude over remaining in a bad relationship. Then I met a man.
At first I wanted us to be friends. It was normal to me. It was what I was used to. But he wanted more and with time, I gave him my heart and everything else I had to give. And then I married him and I had his children.
Many things have changed since then. I have changed, too. I moved many miles away from my hometown. I lost some of the old friends and made some new ones. Some of the friends I’ve lost are men and all of the friends I’ve gained are women. I guess this happens when you become a mother: you find yourself inevitably surrounded by other fellow mothers. I feel as if the male friends just disappear, especially if they don’t have children. I think it’s kind of sad.
Again, I love my girlfriends. They make me laugh, cry, think and feel all the emotions. But I don’t miss my male friends any less. If anything, I miss them even more.
My friends are a diverse bunch but they’re still not complete without the men. I miss their unique perspectives and their points of view. I miss their sense of humour and their analytic minds.
Does it even matter that they are men? I don’t know. I think it doesn’t, because both men and women have certain qualities that make them good or bad friends. I suppose I’m just feel drawn to the character that can be easily found in men but many women possess it as well.
But it also does matter because them being men and me being a woman was a proof that a friendship between these two genders can work wonderfully. And I miss that, too.