To all my female friends that have had at least one boyfriend:
I love you dearly, but sometimes I just want to punch you in the face. I mean this in the most loving and non-hurtful way possible.
You have all had a first date, kiss, make-out session, and boyfriend. I, on the other hand, have not. I am nearly twenty-two, about to graduate from college, and am a virgin across the board. I don’t mean to sound jealous, although I am. But please remember I am still your friend! I don’t mind listening to your boy troubles! You can always count on me to be in your corner and be the voice of reason when you jump onto the caboose of the crazy train. I will always want the best for you and I will always have your back.
Remember this when you are frustrated with men and tell me how lucky I am to not have to deal with them, I envision punching your face in. But not maliciously! I just want you to realize what you are saying and to whom. I want a boyfriend. I just want to get my firsts over with. They are looming over me. I also want to join in your conversations. Sure, I can still join in now, because of watching everyone else. I can even give you great relationship advice because of what I observe in others and because I am a third party to your troubles. But I don’t actually know, and I want to.
I have survived the last twenty-two years without a boyfriend. I know I don’t need a man to be happy or to complete me. I know that I can count on you ladies to pick me up when I’m down. I can come to you to confirm I’m beautiful, powerful, smart, funny, loving, and so on. But sometimes I just want a guy to tell me these things. I want a guy to tell me I’m beautiful while my hair is in a “Ma Kettle-esque” messy bun, I’m wearing baggy sweats, and I’m stuffing my mouth with pizza. I want to watch a scary movie and be able to burrow in close to him during the scary parts. I want to be held and told everything will be OK after a rough day. I want to snuggle in close on a cold winter Saturday and stay in bed. I want to steal his sweater and smell one of those knee-weakening colognes that are inserted in magazines. I want that. I also want the fights. I want to experience the make up after a fight. I want to turn to you ladies and ask for your advice. I want what you take for granted.
I guess in a weird way I also want to have confirmation that I’m not a leper. That’s what it is starting to feel like. I would like confirmation that I am attractive. I am OK with the fact that I don’t have big boobs and a killer bod. I’d rather eat pizza, to be honest. I don’t have the killer confidence needed to pick up a guy. I am actually quite shy. I don’t know how to flirt or if I’m being flirted with. You ladies possess all of these things, which is how you get boyfriends and I don’t. It’s hard for me. It scares me.
So please, the next time you feel like telling me to remain single and how lucky I am for not having boy troubles, just don’t.
Your best friend