Sunday, October 25, 2015

When a tomboy marries her broham

Me: "Oh no! The last iron pill."

Paul: "It's all yours."

Me: "It's already in my mouth, so I dare you to take it out."

This is an example of how our conversations usually go. If you didn't know any better, you might think Paul and I were adolescent schoolboy friends instead of a married female and male. Why? Well, part of it is that I'm a tomboy at heart. I'm not a girly-girl type. I'm not a high-maintenance woman.

In short, Paul's like my broham. We have a bromance, except I'm a bro in personality most of the time, but not in physical terms. He likes boobs and I have boobs. He likes my ass and I have a female ass. So he gets a no-bullshit woman who doesn't care for all the trappings or perks many females want.

I hate shopping, so he doesn't have to get dragged around malls or stores. In fact, if I could shop online for everything we needed, I would. I hate shopping unless it's for something important, like a new computer or tech gadgets.

I also don't care about collecting a gazillion shoes. Do they cover my feet? Are they comfortable? Okay, that's what I need. It's not that I don't like shoes, it's just that I'd rather spend my time playing World of Warcraft, watching movies, reading, writing, or watching online course lectures than shopping for shoes. If my feet weren't so stupidly weird in size, I'd probably get my shoes online too. Yes, I've had high heels and fuck-me shoes in my day, but we aren't partiers or clubbers, so I have no need of them right now.

Now, I still enjoy flowers and chocolate (I kept that female gene, apparently), but I don't require expensive or elaborate bouquets. Pick me some wildflowers (if it's legal) and I'll be just as happy. Or, you know, just pick up a bunch at the local 7-11 or Safeway and I'm happy. It's the thought that counts. The flowers will smell nice and all of that, but regardless of where you bought them, they're gonna die in several days, right? Practical, I know. Must be my Virgo rising (not sure).

But yeah, I understand the way males think much more than I do the female mind. It was always more fun to hang out with guys than girls when I was growing up. They didn't go to the pool just to sun, they went to the pool to roughhouse and play. They didn't cause drama and there were no catfights. There was no competition or one-upmanship. What's more, I was surrounded by males in wet swimsuits and when you roughhoused with them, you could feel their dingles inside their swim shorts. ;-) I may have been a tomboy, but I still had pubescent urges, after all.

I'll be honest: some women don't like me. I'm sure some of them hate me. That's not my problem, of course. Not everybody will like or approve of you. Women can be extra catty, though. For many of them, it's always a competition of some sort. I got plenty of flack in high school for having so many male friends. Because, gee, I must've been a huge slut who was fucking all of the guys, right? Wrong. I wasn't.

Plus, many women can't stand my strong personality, my blunt nature, my opinionated ideas, or my occasional rough language. Well, tough shit. You get what you get, and this is who I am. The thing is, if I griped about their personality and wanted them to change, it would be a whole other story. Ever notice the people who gripe about your personality and want you to change are the same ones that would balk if you treated them the same way? Yeah. How about NO. If you can't stand me telling you my opinion without the frills, find a BFF that will fawn over you, because that's not me.

Anyway, the point is that Paul is my best friend and we have a bromance of sorts (at least personality-wise). He says he knew I was the right one when I watched (and enjoyed) Orgy of the Dead with him when we first began dating. We love horror movies, we are geeky, we are weird, we are flaky introverts, and we are odd ducks. But I know how lucky I am to have found an odd duck like me. One who loves me for who I am, warts and all (figuratively, because I don't have warts!)

So, if you're a tomboy, take heart. There are plenty of guys out there who will understand you and have fun with you. If you're an odd duck, there's a match out there for you somewhere. It may take some time, but you'll come across your mate. Or inner broham. Whatever!

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