I’ve never been a fan of men that cry.  THERE….I said it!   


Not even in movies…….not even when they’ve hurt themselves pretty badly or are nearly killed……I can almost stomach it if they’ve recently had a loved one that died horrifically.  I definitely cannot tolerate it in real life.  I’m certainly a girly-girl.  But I don’t even really like it when **I** cry.  I HAVE cried before, many times.  I just don’t particularly LIKE it.  I generally prefer to internalize my anger or hurt and project it outward to the world as straight up bitch mode.  THAT’S what makes me happy.  Tears DO NOT.


I’m kind of an old soul with equally old ideas about the inherent differences between men and women.  I think women are genetically predisposed to fits of tears….sometimes even when we REALLY don’t want to be.  We’re just hard wired to feel our feels on an purely emotional level.  Alternately, men have always been fueled by hard core testosterone.  Men don’t generally cry.  They grunt and they scratch their balls and then they walk away.  And that’s almost precisely how I like ’em.


I’d recently had a moment where I’d hurt a penis someone’s feelings.  I’ll be the first to admit I’d been a little harsh.  I’d expected that this would eventually lead to a conversation between us.  What I hadn’t expected was for there to be tears.  And not from me.  I almost didn’t even care felt bad….but part of me also wanted to offer up a complimentary tampon and a hankie and tell him to be a man and stop with the unnecessary water works.  Which, ironically, made ME feel like maybe I had a penis for being so insensitive.  Mother fucker.  When did I maybe grow an imaginary penis.


The point is, I’ve always been comfortable in those cozy spaces where the emotional roles of men and women were clearly defined.  Even the Dick knows better than to come at me whining and crying like a bitch, because I will generally tell him that I am quite happy being the girl in our relationship. 


Harsh…..maybe a little.  But I’m generally not in the mood to forsake my own feelings of “EWWWW, person with a penis, are you really crying” in an effort to make that person with a penis feel ok.  I’m just barely able to pretend to be interested in the reason for their in angst.  But NOW I have to pretend to feel bad that they are crying. Nuh Uh!

Just typing that, I could swear I just felt my imaginary penis get bigger.


Have I maybe been so consumed by the testosterone wafting through my home so long that its infiltrated me to the my very core and made ME equally insensitive.  Have I been hanging with these penis people and the Dick so long that I’m slowly morphing into ONE OF THEM?!?!?!?!  Honestly, I’m barely only slightly concerned about it.


ANNNNNDDD……My pretend penis just became enormous!