I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TALK TO GIRLS

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I don’t know how to talk to girls. To be clear last I checked I am very much a girl-a lady rather, on the verge of bursting into a full-grown woman. By not knowing how to talk does not mean I cannot utter a syllable to a human of the same sex but rather I do not indulge in female conversations as much as the girl next-door. My real self-that very bubbly, outgoing and most free persona comes out more when I talk to guys I like. It is no-one’s fault- not their fault(the girls) and I like to think it’s not mine either. Sincerely it is not a fault per-se but one of those things I will diplomatically label ‘circumstance’. Maybe it is caused by a childhood scar or
maybe I am one of those females who identify with males more because in the past life they were male and really good at it so it got entrenched in the DNA or something. Come to think of it maybe I was a Joseph and now I am Mary and who knows what I’ll be next?Maybe Prince William?

If I were to go easy on the ‘maybes’ and try applying the few analytical skills I’ve acquired in statistics I‘d sure come up with a logical explanation for my somewhat imbalanced personality. First off I am the first born in a family of several and my predecessor is a whole seven years younger than me. Essentially that means that I grew up as an only child for seven good years. If you think seven years is nothing remember we have to wait four years to have another world cup. Argentina is not even done licking its sores yet. The wound is still fresh. For opposition people this number of years is longer than the time they spend trolling the government’s every move and behaving like the pretty girl who didn’t get picked as prom queen and just can’t move on.

Growing up alone for seven years( and changing schools in each of those) means getting everything you want but it also means a social life that oscillates somewhere between mum, dad, the help and homework. We didn’t have Nickelodeon then. Mum and dad are too busy starting on their careers trying to make valid that university degree. The help is not social even with the sufurias so that leaves me with homework (she used to steal sugar for/with me though).Now onto matters homework anyone that has been through the 8-4-4 schooling system understands that homework is nobody’s bae. Homework doesn’t play with your hair or crack you those hilarious ‘yo bro’ jokes. Homework is to be done. Homework does not care. Homework will come when you are not ready and just when you start to whine and maybe consider slapping a law suit it will go, gather momentum and come back as a full examination. Enough said!

After seven years our second-born arrived from wherever babies come from.

This changed my social life a bit seeing as the attention I was so used to shifted to the baby and I slowly slipped into the (Halloween) costume of ‘role model’. Simply put I was supposed to be the model sister who gets it right every time. I became that model sister alright, but I became a boy too-low-key. This is because at school most of my class competitors were male and when it turned out that I could keep up I took my ‘rightful’ position at the men’s table .The other pupils respected me but most exhibited some sort of fear, always keeping their distance. It is not until I moved to my final primary school that I made tangible friendships with girls. Needless to say only one of those friendships is alive to this day. Then came high school where it was a case of same story, different cast. With that pressure to perform, a record to keep and people to impress I slowly curved back into the child I used to be. People treated me differently. No one ever cared to see beyond my grades, they stopped right there and refused to get in like I was the nerd who had nothing more to offer rather than maybe the logarithm table? It was a beautiful curse that I learned to live with.Yes, I connected with a few girls in my class and we talk to this day,albeit seldom.Bottom line is I morphed into a social loner whose world had been defined by an anonymous.

Four years later and twenty-one drawing close not much has changed. Well, except for the fact that I discovered boys and do not even think of it, my romantic interests are nothing of reason here. I am simply more at ease talking to a guy about almost anything. I relate to their sense of humor more,and vice versa. Come to think of it most of my best friends are guys. I am lucky to have one close girlfriend that I offload the occasional boy issues to but either way the numbers do not tally.There’s a huge discrepancy.I am more connected to my male cousins than the female. My study buddies are all male. I can brave the cold and walk a whole mile just to go hang out with my guy friends than cross the hallway to the girl on the opposite door. Whether this will ever change I can’t tell. Maybe it is because girls are more demanding emotionally and from experience I am largely incapacitated in meeting those kinds of needs. Maybe it’s just me.

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