X and Y
“All men are not slimy warthogs. Some men are silly giraffes, some woebegone puppies, some insecure frogs. But if one is not careful, those slimy warthogs can ruin it for all the others.” ~Cynthia Heimel
I rely heavily upon dictionary.com and as such, I decided to take a stab at looking up the definitions for Boy and Man, respectively.
An immature or inexperienced man, especially a young man.
An adult male human.
A human regardless of sex or age; a person.
- A husband.
- A male lover or sweetheart.
First pointing out that there were more definitions for Boy, but the others had equally as unhelpful description and one was an offensive one that described a male servant or valet.
That said, it’s an age old conundrum and debate as to what really defines a Boy versus a
My experience with those holding an XY chromosome is pretty standard and rather uneventful, gay male and future seer sucker wearing nitwit, not withstanding. Which is why the general surprise for suddenly being interested in anything that men do (or do not) do. But thinking about it now, I find it quite simple really: I know have some sort of comparisons to make.
You see, I have acquired two friends. Two deliciously wonderful friends, Jorge and Bri. Neither of whom have discovered that I am in fact, an awful friend who gets jealous and doesn’t know that sharing means caring. But they’ve accepted my lush status and so, so far, so good.
Nevertheless, both are men. In the age sense and in the ‘so this is what a man should be like’ sense. Or at least, this is what an actual man should be like if he went so far as to remove his head from his rectum.
What amazes me about both of them is that they are both truly wonderful people with nary a harmful thing to say. Jorge is a self proclaimed fierce friend, who has gone so far as to prove that. And well Bri and I are nothing a like on paper (which shall be attributed to him) and yet I can spend hours with him drunk and suddenly everything is hilarious, even though neither of us can ever remember what we were laughing about in the first place.
With both men, it goes beyond the fact that they make me laugh and compliment the shit out of me, it’s the way they both speak of their wives. There’s an air there; these are women that they love the spit out of and have nothing but admiration and respect for. I had the pleasure of seeing Jorge with his wife one weekend and there were those little moments that an observer rarely notices, that can send a heart a flutter. Though I’ve never met Bri’s wife, he couldn’t stop speaking of her or of his children. While some would find that annoying, I found it endearing.
It’s like a punch in the gut, when you realize that there are actual men out there who can be sweet and thoughtful. These are the men that have no qualms about telling me how they really feel about the person that they love most in the world. That punch in the gut is an awareness of wanting that same thing for myself. Both scary and utterly natural.
The only sad thing now is an understanding that I live in