Monday, April 2, 2012
"Live a Boy's Life and You'll Be Happy!" - Linda Marshall
For just a few seconds after I was born, the doctor thought I was a boy.
My parents had wanted a boy and a girl but were happy with a healthy baby. As the story goes, due to the swelling and mess that occurs during birth, it looked for a minute as if my parents were going to have two boys instead. Once the doctor realized I was female, he quickly corrected himself and announced to my parents that they were proud parents of a baby girl. My dad started to cry.
I wonder, quite frequently, if things would’ve been better had I been a boy instead. Would life have been easier? Would I be less emotional? Would I live out loud, more carefree than I do now? Would I be better at relationships? Would I want a family of my own? Would I be sitting here, alone, wondering how in the world everything got so messed up?
I think of my Dad. Would it have been easier for him to have raised two boys? He did a very good job of instilling in me a passion for football, but that’s hardly a replacement for having an actual son. I think of how much easier it might be if he didn’t have to see his little girl go through relationships like they were clothes that continually fall out of fashion, not knowing exactly what to do or what to say when she crumbles in front of him. I have to think of how much easier he would have it if he didn’t have to talk me off a ledge so often... convince me not to hate myself... we could just watch the game in peace. I wish that were the case for him.
My mom hates that I am dating again. She worries about the guys I’ll meet. She hates the idea of me trying to meet guys in bars or online. She doesn’t like not knowing what I’m up to when I get off of work. I wonder... would she worry about me less if I were a boy? Would she feel more secure in what I do and who I choose to spend my time with? What if, instead of telling her that I brought a guy home last night to watch A Clockwork Orange because we mentioned it in a conversation over drinks, I told her that I met some chick who crashed on my couch because she drank too much... would that be better? Would it not bother her quite so much? Would it be more... normal?
Would my brother and I have had a more substantial relationship? If I were a boy, we could’ve played sports together and bonded over talks about the girls that broke our hearts. We could’ve sat together, drinking Coors Light and shouting at the television during bad plays. Maybe we could’ve had kids around the same time and argued about who was going to do the grilling that weekend. We could’ve hashed out our differences in a fist fight on the front lawn instead of not speaking to each other for years at a time.
Some asshole I work with suggested that I learn everything I can about football as a way to impress guys and get them to like me. Like I use it as a secret weapon to be different from the competition. If I were a boy, I could simply like football.
I fucking hate being single. I hate it so much that I do anything to avoid it. Including getting into relationship after relationship that I’m not committed to. Even now, I know that I need to take time to myself and not rush into anything. Yet here I am, with a new online dating profile set up. I know I need to come straight home from work because it’s the best decision for me. But the thought of sitting in this empty apartment makes me so upset that I continue driving to the bar, because it’s the only place I can be around people and be alone all at the same time. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll meet someone who likes A Clockwork Orange...
I’m so sad about my breakup with Tim and the dry and cracked way we speak to each other now when speaking is necessary. I want to unfriend him on Facebook because it hurts to see him hanging out with his ex-girlfriend again, knowing she makes him happier than I do... and to see all his posts about “moving on” and “discovering a person was not who he thought they were”. I told him how stupid still being friends on Facebook can be. Like standing in the same room with someone but pretending that they aren’t there, looking right back at you. But instead of unfriending him, I stalk his page, wondering what he’s up to and waiting for the next post that will break my heart just a little bit more.
If I were a boy, couldn’t I just say “Fuck it” and move on?
Such a shame that the doctor was mistaken. Something tells me that I would’ve had a better shot at happiness had it not been for my girly parts. Then again, if I were a boy, I’d have to deal with bullshit from girls like me.
Hmmm... guess I was pretty much doomed from the start.
Posted by Tina V at 2:47 PM