One of the Guys
I’ve never been a girly-girl by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, I wore pouffy pink dresses, but I also played soccer while wearing said pouffy pink dress. But I’ve never considered myself one of the guys either.
So-the-fuck-what if I like the occasional glass of whiskey, curse like a sailor, sit like a guy (only occasionally when wearing pants), and leave in the middle of the night after a hook-up even if they’re asking me to stay?
Just because I’m guy-ish it doesn’t make me “one of the guys.” Fuck no. If I were really one of the guys, they would see me as, well, one of the guys. Like, if we got it on that would be totally gay. Or weird, like having sex with your sister. You hear her talk about her thong underwear and it’s weird, not hot. THAT means you’re one of the guys.
But me? Nuh uh. I’ve slept with several of my guy friends.
