I don’t know when it happened. Around the time we got married, I guess. When was it that I stopped being “one of the boys”? I used to get invited along to sports bars and casinos and coerced into chugging contests. Before legal age, I would build bike ramps and play baseball and trade basketball cards. I’ve never been a true tomboy, but I’ve preferred the company of testosterone to estrogen. And testosterone liked me back. Before. But it stopped. I am now one of the girls. Meaning, of course, uninvited.
Maybe now that we’re all paired off and the chasing stopped, the novelty has worn off. Now, instead of trying to get with the girls, the boys are desperately trying to get rid of them. If only for a night. To drink cheap beer and talk shit and act like if they were single again there was a shot in hell of getting the hot girl in the corner booth’s phone number. I can do all those things. I like all those things. Boy, it’s lonely on the outside.