I have NEVER had a close male friend. Males have just never understood me, or perhaps I have just never understood them. I was always the kid who was being laughed at, or being made fun of by the other boys. I could never relate to what the guys were talking about, because I wasn't into sports, or music, or having sex with 14,000,000 girls before age 15. I was more sensitive than they were, and was often found talking to their girlfriends while they kicked soccer balls, wrestled in the grass, and talked about scoring with girls in the restroom. I eventually grew a strong disdain towards males in general. The few things that I did enjoy, very few boys understood. When I eventually found boys who did, they were so used to being alone that they didn't pursue a friendship, and neither did I. It was just easier being around girls.
I still talked to the boys, and hung around them… but I was always on guard. I was ready with my defenses so that, should they attack, I would be prepared. I never let too much of myself show, either. That way they wouldn't have anything to grab on to. This is the way things have been since as far back as I can remember.
Less than a year ago, I met two men: rockbugg> and
When things started out, I would hang out with them occasionally. When I did, I would let them do most of the talking, being extra careful with my words to ensure that they wouldn't have anything to use to attack me. Time went on, and I saw more and more of them. As time went on I found that they share many of the same thoughts, and goals and desires as I do. Hearing them talk about such things gave me a feeling of safety in myself. I felt that, at the very least, it was okay to admit that I agreed with them when they expressed an opinion or feeling on a sensitive topic. I started to conduct myself this way and found that, for the most part I was not challenged or ridiculed, or that, if I was, it was done in such a way that was not attacking or offensive.
Sure… the first time something I said was challenged I drew back. I hid. I went home and told myself to never share anything personal with them again. But that didn't last. Eventually, somehow, conversation would lead down the path that ended with me saying something before I thought about it, and then shielding my face as though they were hand grenades and I had just pulled out the key. They didn't always explode. I came to realize that even when they did… it was in a concerned, "let's have a conversation" way, and not in a "I am going to point and laugh at you because you are not like us" way.
This took a while to get used to. Eventually, I found myself sharing things about me without being prompted by them first. Occasionally, something would happen that would scare me, and I would hide in my shell again for a bit… only to poke my head out again eventually. In the long run, however, they were very accepting and caring and considerate. They respected me, and my thoughts and my feelings.
Things have increased from that point, but, to this day, follow a similar cycle. I take little baby steps closer to them, something happens, I jump back, realize it wasn't what I thought it was, and begin taking baby steps forward again.
Sure, they pick on me, and make fun of me. They call me names I HATE, and falsely accuse me of some of the worse things I can imagine being accused of. But the truth is, they care about me, and they would never intentionally hurt me. Emily helped to show me this yesterday.
I am grateful to have them in my life. Sometimes it is hard for me to show it, because I get worried and scared and start to over-analyze things. But not today. Today I clench my teeth, breathe in deeply, and take a leap of faith and hope that they will [understand].
