No, I don’t think I look like a dude. My naturally curly hair (which I’ve taken to straightening lately) and slight-but-still-there feminine curves give me away every time. The header is from some homeless guy in Charleston (?) who shouted it at the bassist of local act The Films, Jake Sinclair, as he walked down the street in his tight skinny jeans, heeled boots, and Aquanet-ed hair. To which Jake stuttered, “But… I am a dude!”
It’s one of my favorite quotes to come out of my groupie days that sounds funny out of context. But it popped in my head today as I was musing on how I *am* like a guy in some ways.
The first that comes to mind is how I shop. I don’t really like to go and just SHOP. Girls are supposed to LOVE to shop and spend Daddy or Hubby’s hard-earned cash on flashy shoes, bra-and-panty sets at Vicky’s, and seeking out that perfect pair of rear-hugging jeans. This is a process that typically takes a few hours at a time. And while I do love to spend an abnormally long amount of time in a good bookstore browsing without necessarily having a goal in mind, when it comes to clothing, I like to have a purpose in mind. I’m told this is how guys shop: “I need a white shirt, I will do to X Store and purchase said white shirt, and then I will leave.” With me, it’s more along the lines of: “I need a black pencil skirt. I will spend no more than 45 minutes at these two stores looking for said black pencil skirt, not spend more than $30, and then I will leave.” A feminine deviation, but similar concept.
But I suppose the big way I have some dude tendencies comes down to my early education in music and literature. I entered puberty when the Boy Bands were big. ALL of my girlfriends were into NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, or (for a few) 98*. Me, on the other hand? I had just discovered the Beatles, and in musical grades I had skipped at least three ahead of everyone else (or so I liked to think). But I was SUPER obsessive about my newfound love – I was a crazy girlfriend. I only talked about the Beatles. If you weren’t talking about the Beatles, I would find a work to them in (and was really good at it, too). I had pictures of the Hamburg-era Beatles in my locker. And I learned to play guitar, determined to be like my new idol, George Harrison. I couldn’t stand the music of my own era, stubbornly insisting that no good music had been released since the early 80′s (a statement I have retracted many times over since then).
Eventually the honeymoon ended, I mellowed out, and moved on musically. In recent years I have discovered that many guys (mostly musicians, but not all) went through a similar musical enlightenment with the Beatles at about the same age. I still retain a good bit of all that Beatles trivia I acquired (which is why I won’t play the Beatles Trivial Pursuit until I find a worthy opponent), and can converse with the fellows while dropping some of the tidbits. The boys have been unfailingly impressed with me, and that conversation is generally the start of a beautiful friendship. On a few random occasions I’ve found a girl with similar Liverpudlian convictions, but most girls have The Beatles’ 1 album, sang “Let It Be” in high school choir, and that’s the end of that conversation.
This spilled over the first rock concerts I ever saw. Early on in my show-going career, I saw the Monkees, Eric Clapton, Paul McCartney, and CSNY. The girls who were really into BSB and the like are now getting tickets to the reunion shows – which I think is way fun, don’t get me wrong – and reliving their pre-teen days. Now I’ve reached a point where I’d rather spend my money on a few good local and/or indie acts than save up for one big show that won’t be as personal. But I digress.
The other way I raised myself as a dude was what I read. I have always been a lover of books. I won awards in grade school for the amount of books I read. For most of the time when I was growing up, I read the usual canon of kid literature – Lois Lowry, Baby-Sitters Club, Island of the Blue Dolphins, etc. But around the time I entered high school I discovered The Beat Writers. I’ve blogged a few times about the Beats and my love-hate relationship with them, but at the time I thought they were the end-all of Great Literature. I entered my Kerouac Phase.
On my book blog from last year, I told of re-reading Minor Characters, a book my Joyce Johnson, a girlfriend of Jack Kerouac when he became an overnight sensation. I love her book to bits, and can relate to a lot of it. Anyway, out of curiosity I asked a handful of my co-workers from the bookstore for their opinion on the Beat writers and their impact today. The response: “The Beats? Who are they?” This set me back, as I thought that everyone read On The Road as a rite of passage. Not so. Just me and a bunch of guys ranging from hairy grad students to nerdy guys who grow up to be graphic designers.
I have come to realize that these are two big ways I have come to relate to guys I meet. Not only the subjects themselves, but the intellectual and musical pursuits that resulted. I was afraid one of my girlfriends thought I was stealing her boyfriend because the boyfriend and I became engrossed in a conversation about Paul McCartney and ukuleles and totally bonded. There are some guys I talk to that when I drop “Kerouac” or “Truffaut” or “Jimmy Page” their eyes sparkle for a split second. I have thought that this insight into the male mind would bring me more success to my romantic life, but alas, no. I have made a lot of guy friends out of it, though, many of whom have viewed me as the safe “you’re not a girl but you are” girl they can come to with their own girl troubles. I don’t resent them for it, and generally get a kick out of it, but it has made me think I’m not girly enough or something.
But if I was more “girly” or whatever, I wouldn’t be *me*. You can’t help that. I can’t envision myself any other way! Whatevs. I’m girly where it counts.
Side note: It was in my early 20′s that I finally took some of the Boy Bands a little more seriously and have gotten a lot of joy out of it.
