Monthly Archives: February 2011

Alpha male versus Beta male

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Good evening, ladies! Welcome to the main event of the night.

Introducing first: Fighting out of the blue corner, this man is an Alpha Male. He stands 6-feet-1-inch tall, weighing in at 185 pounds. Women find him attractive and hot. He is cocky, unemotional, and can be described by friends as dominant and a leader. He enjoys working out, playing sports, and acting tough.  He fights out of Cincinnati, Ohio. Introducing Max…”Protein Shake”..Powers!

Fighting out of the red corner, this man is a Beta Male. He stands 5-feet-10-inches tall, weighing in at a mere 152 pounds. Women consider him intellectually stimulating, and cute. Maybe. He is insecure, sensitive, and can be described by friends as smart and quirky. He enjoys reading, playing guitar, and writing. He fights out of San Diego, California. Introducing Seth…”Word Nerd”…Cohen!

Cue the howls of the ladies in the crowd.

Introducing our only judge of the evening, Jamie Lee. She’s had multiple years of ranting, raving, and writing about the opposite sex, and has tasted a bit of each of the two types. And tonight, ladies, she will be making the final decision of who captures her heart more often than not.

Let’s get ready to rumble!!!!!!!!!

When we first meet someone of the opposite sex, and haven’t heard the knock from the thought that asks, “Do we or do we not want to have physical relations with one another?” we base the answer on the person’s physical appearance. Is he tall? Check. Does he have hair? Check. Is he wearing jean shorts? No? Good.

He moves on to the next round because we have said “I do” to the aforementioned question. Or at least didn’t cringe at the thought of it.

Alpha males know they are attractive. Sometimes it’s confidence. Sometimes it’s cockiness. (Other times, it’s just denial.) Alpha males usually win if placed against a beta male. It’s life. It’s social Darwinism–only the strong survive. Yet, in this case, it’s whoever looks more appealing to the woman. But how long are good looks really going to last? His big muscles aren’t going to be the one to tell you how much he adores you. His big muscles, however, will be fishing for compliments. And that is just stroking more of his ego.

In high school, began my fascination of baseball players. At 15, I quickly learned that they were the epitome of a good-looking alpha male. They weren’t (normally) overweight like American football players. Their faces weren’t covered in a face mask, making the sport more enjoyable to watch. They walked around school with an aura of confidence. They knew they were good looking.

But I am insecure. I am an introvert. I admit that I can be socially awkward at times (because I abhor small talk). I am a listener, and often get told “You’re so quiet.” Naturally, I was attracted to someone without those said qualities. Alpha males are the complete opposite of me.

Yet at the same time, alpha males intimidate me. Whenever I muster enough courage to talk to one of them, the conversations are quite dull. (Not because of me. Duh.) But something is missing. Alphas usually think Will Ferrell is hilarious. (He isn’t.) Alphas normally enjoy working out, and inevitably they are athletic. They smell of testosterone, even after out of the shower. They rely on their good looks to attract a female. Plus,

Men who are too good looking are never good in bed because they never had to be.

To be with an alpha male is simply a fantasy. It’s similar to what a child thinks when he or she hears the words Disney World. Their eyes light up with anticipation. Their stomach does a flip when the thought of meeting Mickey Mouse. But a visit to Disney World smacks them with a dose of reality: it’s a tourist trap with a mob of people who are all trying to meet Mickey.

It’s the idea that seems entirely wonderful. But I know I’d be disappointed because the relationship is based purely on the sexual attraction of one another. There would be no witty banter, no intellectual stimulation of the mind or laughing out loud when hearing the words reverse Boston creme.

After the physical attraction simmers down, I try to learn about this person. I want to know everything I can to see if there is something other than physical attraction. And I’ve finally found the question to ask someone of the opposite sex to decipher whether or not he is an alpha or a beta.

Do you prefer cats or dogs?

“Dogs,” he says. Alpha.

“Cats,” he says. Beta.

“I don’t like animals,” he says. This interview is over.

The epitome of a beta male.

If he is a cat guy, I am instantly smitten. I know his type. He’s a beta male. Think: fictional character, Tom Hansen. Or real life James Franco.

Betas are the right-brained men of the world. He is usually the creative type, with a big imagination. He reads, he writes, and he cooks. He is a dreamer and is musically inclined. He is a sensy. All of these are deal sealers.

He usually gets looked over by women because he doesn’t fit that mold that society considers “hot.” But rather, cute. However, this should not be considered a bad thing. Cute means personality. Hot means dull. (Remember that, ladies.)

He is smart. He is witty. He is the kind of man who makes the almost-perfect boyfriend. He knows he isn’t Brad Pitt, and makes the effort to woo you with his words and his charm. He appreciates you, even with your flaws.

He is a beta, and he is the type to completely capture my heart over and over again.

I’m looking for Mr. Completely Opposite of Me

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I normally would never kiss such an ugly man, but I cannot resist those charming words coming from his lips. nom, nom, nom.

You like coffee. He prefers tea. You’re an idealist. He’s a realist. You do take-out. He insists on cooking every meal. You like cats. He has two dogs. You’re water. He’s oil. You’re a Virgo. He’s a Pisces. You believe in astrology. He thinks it’s absurd.

You two are opposites, but are attracted to one another.

I’ve always believed in this theory of opposites attracting. I’m not the only one either, as screen writers insist on playing upon this notion all the time: a vampire and a human, a beauty and a beast (just creepy, really), a porn star and a straight-arrow high-school senior. But I cannot say it’s because of movies that have my believing of the idea. Sure, Jamie, sure.

Keep reading! I will blow your mind. Or at least think, Hmm! She may be onto something.

I’ve dated a person who was completely similar to me, and a person who was quite opposite of me. The latter one stuck around longer, so my theory was gaining points among the skeptics. Of course once we broke up, my critics stuck up their nose thinking, Told you so! Scoff! While my fans kindly told me, you’re too good for him, any way.

Thanks.

So, why do opposites attract? Jamie’s theory is quite simple: because she subconsciously or not looks for things in the opposite sex that she so often lacks in herself. A great cook. Take-out. Good with numbers. Uses fingers to count. Being a realist. I’m dreaming of a white Christmas while living in Florida. English accent. American accent. Having dimples on the cheeks. Having dimples on the wrong cheeks. Confidence. Insecure about said dimples.

This would inevitably mean I have all the qualities he is lacking. It creates the ultimate duo. The as-perfect-as-it-will-ever-be couple. The kind of relationship where the two people complement one another so well. That both of their strengths put together would make the whole pie, rather than just bits and pieces of the pie.

You often idealize your future fantasies out loud: I want to be a globe trotter, and conquer the world! Where he kindly would bring you back to reality: Jamie, you need money and a plan. You often find yourself running out the door five minutes late. Where he kindly would set the alarm clock five minutes ahead.

It would be this lovely, harmonious balance of a give-and-take kind of relationship.

When opposites attract, and a relationship has been formed, both people in the duo would introduce each other to new experiences or thoughts one might never have come to before. He likes hiking. You never thought walking could be a hobby. You like astrology. He never thought someone could actually say no to a potential suitor because the person is an Aries based on what pseudo science says about Virgo-Aries compatibility.

However, this does not mean the two should be completely opposite when it comes to everything, especially beliefs and view points on life. I don’t think I could truly be happy with someone if they believed there was an imaginary man in the sky. I couldn’t. Nor could I enjoy one’s company if he believes life should be viewed through a conservative lens. Unless he likes political debates, but I would get exhausted yelling back and forth at a wall. Have you ever tried arguing with a conservative?

Exactly.

Valentine’s, Schmalentine’s Day.

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Being single on Valentine’s Day does not terrify me. It does not depress me. I do not eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, producing moisture on my cheeks, as I watch Lifetime movies. I don’t, as that is terribly cliche. Rather, I  stop at Dunkin Donuts to indulge in a large hot coffee (two Splenda) and a Reverse Boston Kreme doughnut (see below) before work.

In fact, I’ve been single more times than I’ve actually been with someone on February 14. And to be honest, I’m not missing much. What? Chocolate in a heart-shaped box? An impersonal card that some man female copywriter wrote? Flowers?

I will admit, however, I love dining out with a man, so this is inevitably missed. But really, I could do this any other day of the week when a reservation is not needed. (Okay so a man would be needed as well.) I also would probably miss a night of getting horizontal with someone, too.

I do not sulk at the thought of couples being wined and dined in the booth just for two. I work at a restaurant, I see this on an every day basis. Just two days ago, a marriage proposal was set up at the restaurant. Really? Valentine’s Day weekend? How unoriginal of you, man. I also do not become bitter as I deliver flowers to the higher-ups at the newspaper.

Because I don’t fall for the fauxliday that’s created by Hallmark. Some will say that I am just bitter because I’m single. That’s not true because if I wanted someone to take me out tonight, I’m sure someone would oblige to humor me.

So, how did Hallmark come into the picture anyway? Oh, I know.

Think like a corporation for a second. A corporation trying to survive in a capitalist society on steroids. To be considered successful in the world, one must make a shit load of money.

Corporations decided to prey upon the naive consumer, in particular, the in-love consumers. All the while making the single consumer feel bad about themselves for not being good enough, not lovable enough for someone. Maybe I should have bought the anti-aging cream.

Hallmark thought,

“Gee, we need some money. We have all these damn cards and people are only buying them for bat/bar mitzvahs, birthdays, and circumcisions. That’s not making us enough to feed our greedy souls! How about we create some crap holiday where couples show how much they think they love one another. How about a card that reads ‘I love you’?”

“You think people would actually buy that?”

It’s estimated that over $15 million will be spent during the fauxliday this year. Whether it’s cards, chocolate, flowers, or dinner. After all, they’re in the business of money, not love. Like every holiday, it, too, has become terribly commercialized. Christmas is  about camping outside a retail store nine days before Black Friday to get the best deal on a big-screen television.Retail stores will even take advantage of Earth Day to have an excuse for a sale, to have an excuse to get a customer in their store. I hate consumerism.

l’m ending with a moment of Don Draper.

What you call love is invented by men, like me, to sell nylons.

Fool in the Rain

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If my life were a movie, there would inevitably be music playing during the big moments of my life: college graduation (not Vitamin C), a career promotion, or running away from a serial killer in the woods, where I inevitably would trip and fall. There would be music playing during the everyday tasks: taking a shower, laughing over a cup of tea coffee with friends, or preparing dinner in the kitchen getting take-out.

There would also be that moment. That moment the audience has known right from the beginning of my life, but I could never see it until the music played. It is the moment where I suddenly realize I have been in love, all this time, with the man who was right in front of me.  Not the man I thought I wanted to be with or was already with. Rather, he was the man who had seen me at my worst, he was the man who listened to my blabbing over old boyfriends who stomped on my heart, or maybe he was the man I detested at work.

And the audience knew all the while, as they watched me go through my trials and tribulations with the wrong men boys. They would scream at the cinema screen, “Jamie! Why don’t you see it? You’re in love with him–that man! Right there! Stop trying to get back with Unofficial Boyfriend or A, as they are both in committed relationships and jerks.”

But the audience heard the music. That was their cue.

I just haven’t heard it, yet. Because my life isn’t a romantic comedy movie, nor is it a romantic drama. (Maybe more of an indie romance because at least those are more realistic.) Nor do I have an audience watching me.

Otherwise, I would get the tall, dark, and handsome man in the end. My ex-boyfriend would come crawling back at the right time, not two years too late, to tell me he was an idiot, an imbecile, a jerk, or other words that are synonymous with “moron.”

Otherwise, I would have heard the audience yelling. Or at least the ruffled mumbles that I knew weren’t coming from inside my head.

Instead, I get the man who’s a college drop-out, not Don Draper a la mode. I get the blonde-haired alpha-male who doesn’t meet my superficial high-standards of being a dark hair, light-eyed beta male. He never knows the difference between your and you’re. He thinks Will Ferrell is god, and doesn’t appreciate witty banter. He prefers dogs to cats. He gets food on his face, and I don’t have the courage to tell him because he should feel that sour cream on his cheek. He doesn’t have quirks, but rather annoyances.

But if Life. As Jamie Writes It was a movie, what would be my song? What song would instantly start, and I would have that moment which always happens in movies? Which inevitably leads to the woman playing a game of Frogger, weaving in and out of busy streets, trying to get to wherever that man is. (He is usually at an airport leaving for Paris or awaiting for his soon-to-be wife at the end of an altar.) What song could describe that I am always a day late and a dollar short when it comes to romance?

It only made sense it would be Led Zeppelin’s Fool in the Rain.

When I realize I am in love with someone, I fall hard.

And the warmth of your smile starts a-burnin’
And the thrill of your touch gives me fright
And I’m shaking so much, really yearning.

But so often,

You said you would always be true
You swore that you would never leave me, baby.
What ever happened to you?

I’m always dumped. But I will continue to wait for him.

Now I will stand in the rain on the corner
I’ll watch the people go shuffling downtown
Another ten minutes, no longer
And then I’m turning around.

I start to realize he may never come back.

Now my body is starting to quiver
And the palms of my hands getting wet

He said he was going to be here. Until suddenly I start to play the game of Frogger.

I’ll run in the rain till I’m breathless
When I’m breathless I’ll run till I drop, hey
The thoughts of a fool’s kind of careless

Because I’ve just had that moment.

I’m just a fool waiting on the wrong block.

The block was never the right one. I’ve been a fool waiting months and months, standing in the pouring rain, trying to be with someone who wasn’t even the right block.

The Scientific Method: A case of the ex

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Observation:

  • Old boyfriends tend to leave me for women, who are markdowns of me, they work with.

I’ve had three men end things with me to pursue women they work with. Some work out, some don’t, and some end up getting engaged. I was sure this wouldn’t happen with Unofficial Boyfriend. Finally!

After all, he worked in a testosterone setting. That is until he got fired and suddenly found himself in a co-ed setting.

Question:

  • Why does this perpetually happen to me?

I get it—spending eight hours with someone everyday may create some type of friendly bond. You’ll share inside jokes about the boss and co-workers and, well, I don’t know much else.

Hypothesis:

  • If I continue to pick the wrong men, and subconsciously tell the universe that it’s going to happen, then it’s going to happen.

Unofficial was different than A. Oh, sure, aren’t they all? I made sure he was different. He needed attention, a lot of attention. A didn’t. Unofficial smothered me in adoration. I was trying to date like a man. The roles were reversed, and I was finally able to dribble the ball for a while. Bounce, bounce, bounce. You know, let him anxiously wait for when I would pass the ball to him next. (I’m sure there is a correct basketball term for this.) Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Experiment:

So far, so good. I wasn’t doing what I had been doing with A: jumping in front of buses, trains, cars, and other fast-moving transportation to capture his attention. I told myself I refuse to ever do that again. I was keeping my options open. Unofficial would text me saying that he missed me, even when I left his apartment five minutes ago. He misused you’re and your constantly but he didn’t mind my perpetual correcting. He didn’t understand my fixation with game shows, but still let me have control of the remote. He wasn’t a cat guy, but was still friendly to mine. I didn’t learn anything from him, other than he thought I was sexy.

And that was fine. I just wanted to stop thinking about A.

With A, I could tell he no longer wanted to see me. I was a nuisance to him. I can’t escape this terrible memory of me begging him not to leave that night. (I knew he was going to see her.) I cringe at the thought and can’t help but wonder what the hell was I doing? It cannot be normal to be begging for attention from a person who is supposed to be in love with me. A person in love would not be able to fathom the idea of sleeping without one another or at least not choosing to spend more time with a female friend than a girlfriend. Sure enough, he walked out the door, and didn’t come home that night. But instead stayed with her.

Results:

It didn’t work. My hypothesis failed. Unofficial met a girl at work, and within five months the two were engaged. Granted, I told the universe that I didn’t really want to be with him. He was my rebound. I didn’t want to get close to someone when I planned on leaving anyway. Yet, I still ended up being upset that things didn’t work.

He kept telling me how perfect it was when I lived right next door. Then it all made sense. This person had the case of the I-am-so-insecure-I-need-to-work-with-the-girl-I-date syndrome. He was so insecure about himself that he needed to keep tabs on me, literally. After I left Tampa to come back home, being about 45 minutes away from him (an hour in traffic), he was no longer interested. He put on his magician hat and did the ever so infamous disappearing act. He felt threatened by other guys I was not seeing.

Conclusion:

I still don’t get the idea of dating a co-worker. What happens when the two break up? Wouldn’t it end in getting sick of one another? There needs to be some absence from each other. People still need to have their own lives. A got sick of me, someone he lived with. Wouldn’t he inevitably get sick of her, a girl he worked with, and constantly had sleepovers with?

She was the complete opposite of me. When he and I broke up, I figured no one would ever, ever put up with his shit. No one would be attracted to a twenty-four-year old man who doesn’t have a working car, an actual career, or any type of ambition. (And I am not trying to sound like I am talking him down. These were all true statements at the time.)

Of course, someone who is completely like him is going to think he is fantastic. A was only bringing me down. But I realized we attract people who are like us, even if the one thing in common is working the dead-end restaurant job. If we hang out with miserable people, we too, will become miserable. His apathy toward life was rubbing on me.

How could he understand my wants and needs? I dreamed big, he lacked aspiration. He smoked cigarettes, I loathed the after taste when I kissed him. I was getting my Bachelors degree, he dropped out of college. The one thing we had in common was that we both wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.

I didn’t understand then why he didn’t see how stupid he was for walking away. I was smart, funny, and driven. I was the quintessential superhero girlfriend, all of which he walked away from to be with a woman who was subpar, in my eyes. Not his–she was perfect for him.

They were absolutely perfect for each other.

It’s all about me.

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Hear ye! Hear ye! I’m here to write in list form 51 things about me; because who doesn’t like talking about themselves? Plus, my readers don’t know enough about me.

1. I am terribly claustrophobic, although I have absolutely no problem in an elevator. Unless it smells.

2. However, in dreams, I am always going up very tall buildings in elevators and it scares the crap out of me.

3. If I were to go on a reality show, it would either be Big Brother or Amazing Race. Did you really think it would be The Bachelor? Shame on you!

4. I am the future ex-girlfriend of James Franco. He just doesn’t know it yet.

5. I don’t believe in marriage. Oh, I suppose you already knew that.

6. I am very critical of others, but quite empathetic, too.

7. I am pro-choice.

8. I usually hate leftovers, unless it is pasta. Pasta is always better the next day.

9. I want to write a book that will at least change one person’s life. Way to dream high!

10. I will never be a suburban housewife because I am domestically challenged.

11. I really hate when men use the word “ya” as “you.” Ex: I love ya! or See ya tomorrow! Just use the word “you.” Does it seem more serious if he uses “you” as opposed to “ya”?

12. I think I am dyslexic.

13. I prefer words to numbers.

14. My car clock is 8 minutes ahead because I am always late. It works for the most part.

15. Good or not, I live by Carrie Bradshaw’s relationships. I’ve had an Aiden. I’ve had a Berger. I’ve had an Aleksandr. I haven’t found Mr. Big.

16. I think my heart’s been broken more times than I’ve been in love.

17. I sympathize more to animals than to people.

18. I was born a blonde, but couldn’t keep up with the social expectations. I’m more suited as a brunette.

19. I detest people who are narrow minded.

20. I vote left.

21. I strongly believe in karma– good AND bad.

22. I tried to date like a man. I failed.

23. I think Six Feet Under was possibly the greatest show ever created. It has been the only show I grew emotionally to and cried at the finale.

24. My favorite serial killer is, well, Dexter Morgan–blood spatter analyst.

25. I don’t believe in God. At least not in the sense there is an invisible man in the sky. Does that make me an atheist? Well, I’m not much for labels.

26. I feel bad for paying more than $50 on clothes, but am quite all right if it’s going toward shoes or a handbag.

27. My break-up regime constitutes of all six seasons of Sex and the City.

28. I hate sneezing in public.

29. I hate telling people “Bless you.” What’s the point?

30. Whenever I whistle, it’s “Jingle Bells.”

31. I watch Jeopardy! every night.

32. I think I want to be a high school teacher.

33. I’m fairly talented at naming out-of-state license plates from a distance.

34. I wish I met my mom when she was in her twenties.

35. I use my fingers to count.

36. I’m going to make you pay for that great big hole that is was in my heart.

37. I could spend the whole day in a bookstore.

38. Sometimes, I wish I smoked cigarettes. Purely for social reasons.

39. My favorite colors are red, black, and purple.

40. My favorite candy is Junior Mints.

41. My mom is my best friend.

42. I believe in reincarnation.

43. I was born with the gypsy gene.

44. I was a competitive gymnast for over ten years. Yes, I can do a back flip. No, I’m no longer flexible.

45. My first car was a 1996 Honda Accord.

46. I can proudly say that my number is in the single digits.

47. Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On is my favorite song.

48. I might have road rage.

49. I have no sense of direction.

50. I will choose a beer over any type of mixed drink.

51. Unless tequila is involved.

Rules are made for a reason

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Although I can count how many boyfriends I have ever had on one hand, the things I have learned from each of them, I would need multiple hands.

I try not to regret things, and for the most part I don’t. I would, however, regret things I didn’t do or say. Thinking back on certain things, I regret some of my actions. Albeit, some emotions just can’t be controlled, regardless.

I’m making a set of rules, that I learned from previous boyfriends, that I will take with me to my next relationship.

The following is a list of things I will do and not do when I become James Franco’s girlfriend:

1. I refuse to lose my identity.

We’ve all been there, ladies. Once a man is introduced into our lives, it’s all about him, him, him, him. His amazement, his wants, his needs, his dislikes. This can be proved by just looking at newly smitten women’s facebook statuses.

We hang out with his friends. What about ours? You know, the ones we hung out before he came into our life. The ones we used to complain to about how much we so wanted to be in love again. The ones we promised  to each other that we would still set weekly lunches to dish about how amazing life is now that love came barging in. We alienate our friends completely. Yet, the moment he breaks up with us, whom do we need the most? The people who have been there all along.

I want to be Jamie and James Franco. Not JamieandJamesFrancolikeitisoneword. That’s always every girl’s number one problem when getting into a relationship. If you say otherwise, you’re in complete denial.

2. I refuse to demand for attention.

I can’t believe I am even making this number two. Yet, I’ve had to do it multiple times. The moment I find myself demanding attention, I will not go any further with James Franco because a) he is more than likely giving attention to somebody else and b) I know I am worth more than having to jump in front of a bus to grab his attention. I’m fabulously amazing and I have an excellent Relationship Resume to prove it. If he  can’t get enough of me, then I will find someone who will.

I just want to be adored, in fact, so much that he can’t help but touch me every time he passes by. I want that mutual addiction. No power struggles. I feel like I always say this, but it needs to be reiterated.

3. I refuse to fall into a routine.

I want to be comfortable with my significant other, yes. However, I do not want to fall into the routine of wake up, get ready, give kiss goodbye at 8:38 a.m, exchange I love you’s, come home, eat dinner in silence, get in bed, give kiss goodnight at 11:38 p.m, and repeat.

The moment I felt like his “I love you” was just an echo of mine, was when I started rule number two. Thus, I will make sure the relationship keeps its spontaneity like it was the first six months of the relationship.

4. I refuse to be that insecure, and dependent girlfriend again.

I used to be her. It makes me cringe just thinking about it. But I said adieu to her in 2008.

2011 welcomes a woman who knows what she wants and who she doesn’t want. She is a woman who has taken the time to fall in love with herself. A woman who has been single for the past two years, by choice. She learned that life doesn’t end if she is single. In fact, it’s pretty great–(minus the lack of regular sex.)

5. I will continue doing little things.

You know, like stocking his unloved fridge with his favorite beer (that just so happens to be yours). After all, who doesn’t like coming home to a fridge full of beer the little things in life?

6. I refuse to be a doormat.

I used to be one. But I said adieu. She left with Insecure and Needy on a road trip and has yet to return. (Just re-read rule number four.)

7. I refuse to continue to be with him if I’m unhappy because I am terrified of being without him.

It’s an error I continue to make over and over again. It seems almost masochistic, and perhaps it is. I know that I’ve lived without him before I knew he existed. And I know that I can do it again, even knowing he exists in this world, where he is living his life with his new girlfriend. The girlfriend you were so sure would be long gone by now.

8. I will be that superhero girlfriend like I always have been.

He should not take me for granted or else I will be done with him. One shouldn’t mess with a superhero because, naturally, I have superpowers. And it’s hardly driving an invisible car in the sky.

When Harry met Sally

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What I’m saying is – and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form – is that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

I’m a female. He’s a male.

Is he a prospective boyfriend? Or just a friend? I mean, he’s definitely cute. I would kiss him. I think. I would certainly hold his hand.

If he did it first.

He just blew his nose really loud, looked at the evidence that came out of his nose, and threw the tissue away.

Okay, he is definitely a friend. A boyfriend wouldn’t do that. I could never look at that male as a possible love interest. I mean, really? Good-looking men don’t do that. They are not humans and weird substance does not come out of them.

Wait. He grabbed my hand. I feel butterflies. Or was that cockroaches? beetles? I hope he washed his hands.

Ugh. The sound and sight of him blowing his nose will not leave my mind. But what about those bug feelings? He’s totally cute with those dimples. Sigh, they get me every time. He’s tall, but lacks the other two qualities that I so often dream of in my Mr. Almost Right. But I would still kiss him.

If he did it first.

—

I‘ve always preferred to hang out with males more than females. (Even though my feminist side kicks me in the head for this.) Inevitably, this can be difficult. Not because I don’t like watching baseball. Not because I don’t like to go down a few pitchers of beer, all the while listening to Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On. Not because I don’t like to talk freely about sex. Because I enjoy doing all of those things, especially with men. The reason is not a lack of interests that have men and women friendships everywhere hard to maintain. It’s because there seems to always be some type of sexual energy going on, whether it’s mutual or not.

With that being said, could men and women ever really just be friends?

I think back to my closest male friends that I have had at one point in my life–more so in high school when I actually had friends. The number was merely a handful, but there had usually been some type of chemistry between us, even if it was for thirty seconds or thirty days. Even if it was never mutual. Even if it was at the wrong time. Even so.

For that split second, there has been that moment, that moment where we (you, Tarzan and me, Jane) have thought about doing one another. A cringe, a slight turn of the stomach, or a raised eyebrow may be the first reaction, but the thought has come knocking on that one part of the brain.

That’s the split second you decide if you’re going to open up that door and see where it leads you (try to do one another) or hear the knock, look through the peep hole to see who it is and pretend you didn’t hear.

I don’t think it was as a big of a problem then (high school) as I see it now (post-college graduate). Whenever I find myself meeting a person of the opposite sex and numbers are exchanged (and boy, does this happen a lot never). I inevitably ask myself, “Do I find you attractive?” or “Do I see you as a boyfriend?” or “Do I see you as the big spoon?”

And when does one decide we do see them as a mate? Do I have to answer yes to all of the above questions? What if two out of three are yesses? Am I over-analyzing?

Maybe it’s the fact that numbers were exchanged that implied, “Hey, you’re attractive. I want to do you.”

Meanwhile, all of this will have me worried when the first time we do hang out alone. I will feel pressured to make sure things go perfectly, you know, like in movies. And if a male species does blow his nose way too loud, I will automatically be turned off by him as a potential mate. Because good-looking men are not humans.

Is it the fact that men and women will never able to be platonic (unless you swing the other way)? Is it because I have a vagina and he has a penis? Is it because we are a bunch of animals, and it’s within our nature to do the deed that leads to procreation? Is it because we live in a heteronormative society where  it’s just automatically assumed we want to be with the opposite sex? Was Harry Burns right all along–does sex just inevitably get in the way?

I ask a lot of rhetorical questions.

Any who, I think I can conclude the following: They may never develop some type of romantic feelings where they want to be with one another. They will, however, be more than okay to have sex with each other. This is especially true if you’re a male.