My name is Lance……………….. and I’m a lesbian, (my wife is going to love this).   Before you think I’m a misogynistic swine, let me explain.    I’ve always enjoyed the company of women over men my entire life.  I have many more female friends than I do male friends.   Why, I have no idea.  Seems pretty natural to me, but most men don’t like it. I’ll save that for another post.   Maybe I’m lacking the old Neanderthal driven testosterone “buddy buddy “ gene.   Or maybe I’m missing the old “what happens at the hunting camp stays at the hunting camp” gene.   Who knew?

Spending time with other men has always been an arduous experience for me.  Like going to the dentist.  It has to be done but I would rather be someplace else.   Take the party my wife and I attended last week.  We ended up at a typical suburban house just like anywhere in America.  Two cars parked in the driveway, kids playing down the street.  The party started like most, with couples mingling around the kitchen and living room, snacks and drinks were served.  Then after 30 minutes of male/female banter, our male host suggests some excuse about wanting to show us men his latest biggest power tool in the basement.  Then all the men joyfully escaped down the stairs into the man cave to watch the game.  It doesn’t matter what sport is playing on television, men will always find something to watch.  Do they really loath their wives that much?  Or is it that the wives don’t really want them around?

At this point fear starts to overcome me, what to do………… Do I feign an inconceivable malady.  Do I tell everyone I just got called into the emergency room for surgery.  That won’t work, I’m not a doctor…….. Now the agonizing decision, do I ignore the men and spend a blissful  afternoon upstairs with the women and face being ostracized by my male compatriots for all eternity, not a bad scenario.  Or do I relegate myself to the man cave of testosterone driven revelry.  After 60 minutes of alcohol driven vulgarities and insults at the opposing team and players on the television and just before the obligatory butt slapping started, it was time for me to head upstairs, if not for my sanity, then at least for the protection of my ass.

Which leads me to my conclusion, I remember in school there was this guy who always hung out with the girls. Most of the guys (me included) just assumed he was gay (not that there is anything wrong with being gay) just our immature, adolescent observations at the time.  Fast forward 30 years and this guy who used to hang out with the girls, wasn’t gay after all, turns out he was just like me.