Women in your life
I was at a good friends house yesterday, making huge batches of ravioli with a group of women.
It was a ridiculous amount of fun. The women who were there had everything to do with that, of course. Making ravioli is a LOT of fucking work. It's cool, and kind of zen. But it's not fun.
The women, though... the women were fun.
Julie, the woman whose house we were at, is amazing. She's a mama, and a sex kitten, and a philosopher, and a theoretician, and a girly girl, and just a brilliant human being. She's also a good friend. And she's teaching me some lessons about friendship that I should have learned a long time ago.
I've always had a hard time relating to women. They feel like alien creatures from another planet, and when I try to talk to them, especially in groups, I get incredibly discombobulated and uncomfortable. I just don't know what to say. They're talking about things, for the most part, that don't make any sense to me. It's not that they're shallow, though some of it is. It's that there's a fellowship comprised of shared experiences; first time putting on makeup, learning how to shop, learning about power over boys, learning about other girls and how to relate to them - that I just don't relate to. I came to most of those experiences as an adult, or at least a young adult. And they were different for me, and revolved around masculine energy. So, when I talk to women I tend to turn back into an awkward, goofy teenager. And I really hate that feeling, so I try to avoid it.
Which means that pretty much all of my female friends up to this point in my life have been the same as me. Extremely guyish. Pretty much the antithesis of traditional feminine energy. It's not that they didn't love beautiful things, didn't love to dress up, didn't love to cook and care for others. It's that everything they did like that was based on a traditionally masculine mindset. I don't know if I can explain that thought right now without sounding like a sexist pig, so I'm not even going to try. I'll break down my concepts of masculine and feminine in a later post. Suffice it to say that almost all of my female friends could have just as easily been gay men.
They were also all fucked up in one form or another. I was basically a mother figure to my female friends, somebody to turn to for advice, somebody to protect them, to make them feel cherished. And I loved that role. It's a nice role to fill. I could be a motherly figure without having to be a feminine figure. I could take care of, and draw intense satisfaction from that caretaker role. (Coming to this conclusion has me remembering my mothers friendships, and kind of freaking out at how INCREDIBLY similar my relationships are to hers.)
But it wasn't friendship. It wasn't equal, and I wasn't being a good friend to them. I felt better than them. That's a horrible thing to do to your friends. You can't call yourself a friend when you're trying to drag people up from where ever they are, even if it's a gentle dragging. You're a mentor, you're a protector, you're a mother, you're a knight... but you're not a friend. Because friends are your equals. And they treat you that way.
I'm ashamed of the types of friendships I developed. Having to feel better than the people I allowed myself to get close to... that does not speak well of my own maturity or strength.
I lost all of those friendships in pretty spectacular ways. It's happened twice in my life, a great purging of people who thought I loved them, who thought I was as close to them as a sister. And it's not that I didn't love them or feel close to them. But they didn't give me the type of love that I truly wanted and needed. So, I walked away. Or they walked away from me because of something I did that was unforgivable.
The last purge happened over a year ago. And I haven't really developed any close friendships since then with women.
Anyways, blahblahblah me me me...
Hanging out in a kitchen with a group of 4 women, all of whom I liked and respected immensely, was eye opening. These ladies are brilliant, and adult, and caring. They're not focused on how to make themselves feel better at the expense of those around them. That's a quality that should be associated with teenagers who haven't learned better yet, but I've found it all too common amongst those I choose to become close to. Which means it's inside me too. And I don't want it.
So, watching these ladies interact, being surrounded by this quintessential feminine energy, warm and caring and nurturing, made me... well, really sad, honestly. At first I felt like an outsider. I didn't know how to connect. So I got busy doing what I needed to do for the ravioli, and I just listened. And eventually I fell into the pattern of their connections, and I participated.
One problem I have is knowing how to participate in healthy connections. I'm so used to certain patterns, certain reactions, that healthy ones take a lot of effort to understand and emulate. But talking to these women felt completely natural. We didn't have to talk about shoes and purses. We talked about Robyns dissertation proposal, which revolves around materialism, why it exists and how to get rid of it in your life. We talked about body image, and what it means. We talked about becoming healthy, and why we'd want to do it. We also talked about men, but not much. We talked about sex, and there was no competition. We talked about wonderfully interesting things, and there was no sense of anybody trying to one up anybody else. These women encouraged each other, listened to each other, and learned from each other. They were adults, and feminine, and friends. It was a lovely thing to be a part of.
Towards the end, Julie started playing with my hair. I was sitting down, watching them work, and playing with my newly cut bangs. Which I started complaining about, because they're terrible, and I did them myself, and I'm an idiot. Julie came over and started clucking over my head, pushing things around and exclaiming over my cowlicks. She asked me what product I used, and when I said none, she went into her bathroom and got hers. She came out and proceeded to make my hair even more hilariously ugly. It was terrible. But it was also very sweet. When she asked me who cut my hair, I told her I did it myself. Whereupon she looked at me in horror and asked me WHY?? (there was a dear god implied before it). I couldn't really give an answer that made sense, and I was uncomfortable with all eyes on me. I just mumbled something about being stubborn, that I could do it for myself.
And she grabbed my chin, pulled my head to look me in the eye, and said "Sweetie, you have to let women help you."
And, me being me and goofy, got tears in my eyes. To her, I'm sure it was just a matter of telling me to go get a professional to deal with my cowlicks already. To me, it personified everything I'm looking for right now. I've figured out my sexuality. I understand my relationship with men, for the most part. But I crave friendships with women. I crave completeness, and I will not be complete until I can satisfy that part of who I am. I am feminine, and I want to understand the power of that. I want to be a good friend.
In order to become one, I've started to draw the kind of friends to me that I can emulate and admire. I'm so grateful for that. I feel more than a little silly that it's taken me till 33 to even begin to understand this need. But I'm more glad that I'm starting to do it at all. Time doesn't really mean much, other than in the sense of having missed out on years of potential. That's ok. I've got time stretching out in front of me to enjoy new knowledge.
It was a ridiculous amount of fun. The women who were there had everything to do with that, of course. Making ravioli is a LOT of fucking work. It's cool, and kind of zen. But it's not fun.
The women, though... the women were fun.
Julie, the woman whose house we were at, is amazing. She's a mama, and a sex kitten, and a philosopher, and a theoretician, and a girly girl, and just a brilliant human being. She's also a good friend. And she's teaching me some lessons about friendship that I should have learned a long time ago.
I've always had a hard time relating to women. They feel like alien creatures from another planet, and when I try to talk to them, especially in groups, I get incredibly discombobulated and uncomfortable. I just don't know what to say. They're talking about things, for the most part, that don't make any sense to me. It's not that they're shallow, though some of it is. It's that there's a fellowship comprised of shared experiences; first time putting on makeup, learning how to shop, learning about power over boys, learning about other girls and how to relate to them - that I just don't relate to. I came to most of those experiences as an adult, or at least a young adult. And they were different for me, and revolved around masculine energy. So, when I talk to women I tend to turn back into an awkward, goofy teenager. And I really hate that feeling, so I try to avoid it.
Which means that pretty much all of my female friends up to this point in my life have been the same as me. Extremely guyish. Pretty much the antithesis of traditional feminine energy. It's not that they didn't love beautiful things, didn't love to dress up, didn't love to cook and care for others. It's that everything they did like that was based on a traditionally masculine mindset. I don't know if I can explain that thought right now without sounding like a sexist pig, so I'm not even going to try. I'll break down my concepts of masculine and feminine in a later post. Suffice it to say that almost all of my female friends could have just as easily been gay men.
They were also all fucked up in one form or another. I was basically a mother figure to my female friends, somebody to turn to for advice, somebody to protect them, to make them feel cherished. And I loved that role. It's a nice role to fill. I could be a motherly figure without having to be a feminine figure. I could take care of, and draw intense satisfaction from that caretaker role. (Coming to this conclusion has me remembering my mothers friendships, and kind of freaking out at how INCREDIBLY similar my relationships are to hers.)
But it wasn't friendship. It wasn't equal, and I wasn't being a good friend to them. I felt better than them. That's a horrible thing to do to your friends. You can't call yourself a friend when you're trying to drag people up from where ever they are, even if it's a gentle dragging. You're a mentor, you're a protector, you're a mother, you're a knight... but you're not a friend. Because friends are your equals. And they treat you that way.
I'm ashamed of the types of friendships I developed. Having to feel better than the people I allowed myself to get close to... that does not speak well of my own maturity or strength.
I lost all of those friendships in pretty spectacular ways. It's happened twice in my life, a great purging of people who thought I loved them, who thought I was as close to them as a sister. And it's not that I didn't love them or feel close to them. But they didn't give me the type of love that I truly wanted and needed. So, I walked away. Or they walked away from me because of something I did that was unforgivable.
The last purge happened over a year ago. And I haven't really developed any close friendships since then with women.
Anyways, blahblahblah me me me...
Hanging out in a kitchen with a group of 4 women, all of whom I liked and respected immensely, was eye opening. These ladies are brilliant, and adult, and caring. They're not focused on how to make themselves feel better at the expense of those around them. That's a quality that should be associated with teenagers who haven't learned better yet, but I've found it all too common amongst those I choose to become close to. Which means it's inside me too. And I don't want it.
So, watching these ladies interact, being surrounded by this quintessential feminine energy, warm and caring and nurturing, made me... well, really sad, honestly. At first I felt like an outsider. I didn't know how to connect. So I got busy doing what I needed to do for the ravioli, and I just listened. And eventually I fell into the pattern of their connections, and I participated.
One problem I have is knowing how to participate in healthy connections. I'm so used to certain patterns, certain reactions, that healthy ones take a lot of effort to understand and emulate. But talking to these women felt completely natural. We didn't have to talk about shoes and purses. We talked about Robyns dissertation proposal, which revolves around materialism, why it exists and how to get rid of it in your life. We talked about body image, and what it means. We talked about becoming healthy, and why we'd want to do it. We also talked about men, but not much. We talked about sex, and there was no competition. We talked about wonderfully interesting things, and there was no sense of anybody trying to one up anybody else. These women encouraged each other, listened to each other, and learned from each other. They were adults, and feminine, and friends. It was a lovely thing to be a part of.
Towards the end, Julie started playing with my hair. I was sitting down, watching them work, and playing with my newly cut bangs. Which I started complaining about, because they're terrible, and I did them myself, and I'm an idiot. Julie came over and started clucking over my head, pushing things around and exclaiming over my cowlicks. She asked me what product I used, and when I said none, she went into her bathroom and got hers. She came out and proceeded to make my hair even more hilariously ugly. It was terrible. But it was also very sweet. When she asked me who cut my hair, I told her I did it myself. Whereupon she looked at me in horror and asked me WHY?? (there was a dear god implied before it). I couldn't really give an answer that made sense, and I was uncomfortable with all eyes on me. I just mumbled something about being stubborn, that I could do it for myself.
And she grabbed my chin, pulled my head to look me in the eye, and said "Sweetie, you have to let women help you."
And, me being me and goofy, got tears in my eyes. To her, I'm sure it was just a matter of telling me to go get a professional to deal with my cowlicks already. To me, it personified everything I'm looking for right now. I've figured out my sexuality. I understand my relationship with men, for the most part. But I crave friendships with women. I crave completeness, and I will not be complete until I can satisfy that part of who I am. I am feminine, and I want to understand the power of that. I want to be a good friend.
In order to become one, I've started to draw the kind of friends to me that I can emulate and admire. I'm so grateful for that. I feel more than a little silly that it's taken me till 33 to even begin to understand this need. But I'm more glad that I'm starting to do it at all. Time doesn't really mean much, other than in the sense of having missed out on years of potential. That's ok. I've got time stretching out in front of me to enjoy new knowledge.
A very touching and personal post.
ReplyDeleteI would like to say that, being a man, I can't relate to your need. But I can.
It took me a long time, but I finally came to terms with my own masculinity a few years ago and I feel more "in place" with the universe.
Thanks for sharing with us.
Eric, I'm always trying to convince my guy friends that they need friendships just as much as women do.
ReplyDeleteIt's an important part of human growth, human interaction. And it's satisfying for both genders :). Glad you came to your own terms and place of comfort. It's a good feeling.