I was having a random chat with my cousin the other day. She just found out her husband is cheating, and she’s pretty furious. I always thought the guy was [more than] a bit of an asshole, but she loves him. She goes for the arrogant type, and they tend to be … well … you know … assholes. I – on the other hand – prefer nice guys, or as my cousin put it, girls with ***.

See, she likes a man who is proud to be a man. In her words, what would she be doing with a guy who wants to sit down and talk about emotions? I smiled, because that’s exactly what I want – a guy who will tell me how he feels. In words.

I’m not talking about I love you or I’d die without you. Anyone can say the first three magic words, and I find it’s easier for guys to say them when they don’t mean it. The latter phrase would just make me laugh – unless it was backed with instrumentals and the fat braided guy in PM Dawn.

 

What I mean is I want a man who trusts me enough to tell me when he’s scared. As my cousin rolled her eyes, I explained that the reason I like my men ‘girly’ is because … well … I am a guy. I may have D cups, a baby, and occasional menstruation, but I suspect I have a touch more testosterone than the average female.

I told a former Mr 3CB that I have mothering insecurities. My deepest fear is that I suck at being my baby’s mother. I have certain ideas about what a mother should be, and well, I’m not like that. He smiled and said, ‘Well, that’s because you’re not a mum. You’re a dad.’

I laughed, but a few minutes earlier, I’d been praising some woman’s curves and he turned his head a bit to the side and asked, ‘How can you talk like that and not suspect you might be gay?’ Again, I laughed. I’m not bicurious, but I’m not blind either. I know a thing of beauty when I see one.

On a slightly related note, I read on MSN that most women – straight or otherwise – find the female body a bigger turn on than the male body. I’m going to go with a *no comment* here … except to admit that seeing a hot woman does make me want to have sex. Just not with her. So, guys, you know that argument about having a wet dream or being turned on by a stripper and then consummating the stick with your girl instead? Well, next time your girl gets all frisky, her mood just might have been prompted by Janet.

Sad as it is, this statement probably made more guys excited than offended. Tsk tsk.

But I digress. This is supposed to be about women in general, and specifically, two women that I admire. This one and this one. There’s a third girl, but apparently, she deleted her blog. Interesting.

In the female world, there’s a thin line between admiration and jealousy. I suppose that’s why we give each other the evil eye. Two random women see each other on the street and shoot looks intent on murder. Usually it’s that the girl is well dressed or has a hot boy on her arm. It could be that she is taller, shorter, thinner, fatter … or maybe it’s just because she isn’t a boy.

While I try not to give anyone the evil eye, I do have sessions of admiration-slash-jealousy. Usually it’s because the girl has something that I don’t have, something I want, something that I badly wish I had. That thing is confidence.

I suppose that’s a weird thing to say, seeing as my hair is purple and my blogger name is Crystal Balls. But as I explained to my friend yesterday, I’m not confident. I’m just proud and stubborn. Also, I like to shock people. It’s a trait that is easily interpreted as *I-don’t-give-a-f*ck-what-people-think* I do and say some crazy ish, and I’m always pretty happy about it. But I often subtly apologize for my guts, because while I’m immensely proud of them, I know how easily they offend. Truly confident women don’t do that. And yes, she’s wearing a weave.

A while back, I did the 25 things meme on Facebook, though I suspect I deleted it shortly after. I wrote that I don’t like people, I prefer my own company, and I sometimes [many times] lock the door, draw the curtains, and pretend not to be home. I do it to keep away unannounced visitors. My list of 25 things sounded a lot like this post here.

A former classmate read the list and was surprised. She says I’m actually very popular and have lots of friends, so she’s shocked that I describe myself as a hermit. Bubbly says the same thing. Many people count her as a best friend, but she alone knows that she lets nobody in.

Then there’s the issue of marriage. I don’t believe in nuptials, but that’s only because I know I suck at it, and not even the bits of it that a husband wants sucked. I can give antimarriage arguments as well as anyone, but I don’t really believe them. I am this strange amphibian thing that can survive on both sides of the fence, but is not really at home on either one. So I envy women like Bubbly and Nittzsah who are clear in their beliefs.

I find it interesting that my 25 things post, as well as Bubbly’s friends post depicted us as people who don’t want friends. We prefer to go it alone and keep the whole world out. Yet we both have all these pals who think we’re bosom buddies. Bubbly is clearly cool with that. She’s okay with her walls and her aloofness.

Me, I’m not so sure. I’m comfortable enough with myself that I don’t seek new friends, and I stopped meeting bloggers and Tweeters. I’m quite content to keep it on the web. But I do feel sorry for the people who think they’re close to me, the ones who think I’d catch grenades for them. Sometimes, I feel so sorry for them that I call when I don’t want to, and fulfill my social obligations. I do it because they often do the same for me – mostly when I don’t want them to. The least I can do is convincingly reciprocate, and that makes me sad.

Of course, being the paranoid girl that I am, I’m now looking at my friends with fishy eyes. I’m wondering how many could be Bubblies in disguise. At the other extreme, there are people in my life whom I adore and I wish they’d like me enough to let me in. I guess that’s Kharma’s way of paying me back.

I wish I was one way or the other. I wish I could either sincerely immerse myself into ‘society’ or wear my ‘back off’ banner with pride. This lukewarm space I inhabit is a terribly uncomfortable in-between.

In Harry Potter, Harry is often thought to be just like Voldemort. He speaks Parseltongue, he’s capable of magic way beyond his age, and even the Sorting Hat thought he was a Slytherin. Dumbledore says Harry is every bit as great as Voldemort, and that he even has bits of Voldemort in him, since he’s essentially a living Horcrux. The difference between Harry and Tom Marvolo Riddle is that Harry is capable of love. Harry and Voldemort consider this a weakness, but Dumbledore says it’s his greatest strength.

I don’t know if my tendency to be ashamed of my vice is a good thing or bad one, but I wish I didn’t care so much what other people think or feel. Given my against-the-grain beliefs, not caring would make life so much easier.