My last blog ended with me swearing off female friendship at the age of 12. Of course it wasn’t like that. I did try from time to time – such as in the group dance exercise in gym class.
When I was 12, this had been a hoot. We were allowed to choose our own song, and Lori and I and the rest of our gang choreographed an absurd routine to “In the Navy”, by the Village People. When I was 13, we were all assigned the song “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang, which was less fun, but I was at least put in a group of nice, normal, fairly-clever girls. They were all friends with each other from a different elementary school to mine, but I was on the fringe of being accepted by them. We were all invited over to Becky’s house after school one day to work on our choreography.
It was my undoing. Becky had an attractive older brother; another girl in the group had a crush on him; he was very clearly interested in me. I spent an exhilarating afternoon playing blind man’s bluff and giggling and flirting and was never invited back.
I was discovering around this time how much easier to talk to boys were than girls. Boys didn’t drone on about clothes and makeup. Boys didn’t require subtle compliments. Boys laughed at my jokes. Boys didn’t form clubs I wasn’t allowed to join.
Not until the workplace did I discover how wrong I was on this last point.