Phi Beta Bitches (L)

Alessandra and Marty,
Envy can strike you in some funny places. I remember reading about the male cast of Lord of the Rings and how they became this fellowship of brothers and all got a tattoo together. I longed for that summer camp style bonding as a grown up. I fantasized myself one of the boys at the local pub sharing a laugh with my best buds. Then I read Liv Tyler's account of her time on location, it sounded lonely and isolated. I realized, I could mentally join the crew, but I'd still be a girl.

For as long as I can recall, I have wanted to be a boy, although I did not like being mistaken for one. When I was four, I insisted on being called "Tommy". Later, my greatest dream was to have the nickname "AJ" because it sounded cool. My best friend through most of grade school was Ward Shaw. I called him my "soul brother". I loved my actual brother, who was mostly nice to me and tried to shape me in his image. I played the trumpet, read X-Men comic books, and was a sniper in the Army of our back fields. My sister played the flute, spent an inordinate amount of time working on her tan, and was exceptionally mean to me. It was very clear to me at a young age that boys had more fun. This was also reinforced to me in my sexist white trash home where my brother didn't have to fold laundry because it was "squaw work", and instead got the superior job of burning the trash. I wanted to be one of my brother's posse so badly that I married his best friend.

Eventually, I learned a careful selective process of picking girlfriends can eliminate much of the cattiness I detested in women. I truly believe my friends are the best of the best of the female species and I get support, perspective and empathy from them that seems virtually unattainable from the boys in my life. I also learned that I like girly things, like long hair, high heels and fingernail polish. But I never quite lost the envy of the simple loyalty and companionship that a group of male friends seem to represent.

Then there was Alessandra and Marty. I think the thing that separates our little triumvirate from any other female friendships in my life is its traits of masculinity. Ours is the closest I will ever get to male bonding. I think we all individually have lived similar younger lives of preferring male company. You two are pool sharks, we were all once upon a time probably the winner of many a beer funnel contest (Marty, I'm sure you could still drink any man under the table), Al drives a Harley, my tongue could make a sailor blush, I could go on and on about how boyish we are. Who else could I have to my camp in late September in Maine when there's no heat except the burn from our alcohol and an outdoor campfire? More importantly, our personal relationships are more like men. We pick up our friendships' threads with no venom or blame when it drops. Marty understood when I was pregnant and bleeding (ok, we're a little female) and couldn't make her wedding. Al understood when I brought a girl and not my husband (no, not gay) to her wedding. We just don't get mad at each other and stop speaking, we just never stop. That camaraderie is lifelong and in our blood and we never ask the other to prove it. It's all the best of a fraternity with none of the dues. But I still kind of want to be a boy...