my friend texted me to tell me that he can fly planes now.
i think he knew that my first reaction would be one of participation. 'fly me! fly me!' was my response.
we were friends in the last year of high school, that summer, and maybe a couple more months after that.
he was the guy who owned a truck, a small framed Ford Ranger. he didn't let anybody else drive it, and was obsessed with all that is metal and wheel.
his grades were poor. but he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. he wasn't good at computers, only mechanical things. and cooking and being risky, which is basically making stupid decisions for their hilarious and irresponsible outcomes.
i liked him. he was one of my better friends. i overlooked his dumb image - for not knowing 'regular things' like how to email a picture off a digital camera, or cell phone shortcuts, or fashion. i thought he was cool because he had the best sense of direction, he was game for any kind of adventure, he loved to cook food (and got better at it with time), he fixed cars, and we explored a lot of dirt roads (a novelty).
his sarcasm was heavy and his jokes could be cruel, but that was all part of asserting his masculinity amongst the rest of the insecure dicks who hung out together. necessary.
he let me see through it. probably this is the magic of being a girl.
he'd go out into the local park/lake and drive around on the trails at night, often getting stuck in the mud and calling up a friend to come help push it out. a couple times the truck died on him out there, so they had to roll it home. good times.
we'd climb the fence and swim at the outdoor pool. strip down to underwear and climb the roof of the changerooms and jump into the pool from there. my sister showed me how to dive, but i still hold my nose.
i don't actually remember if we had towels, or if we just air dried. strange.
it was fun being one of two or three girls and five guys.
the whole world of being a guy was fascinating and i still wonder at it. it's like a forest, thick in adolescent areas, and more sparse in times of relationship or family, but always growing and changing with the men.
huh. i just remembered how my dad says that men remember landmarks, like big old stumps, and women remember road signs and street names.
