There are certain women I'm with where males are the basic subject of a conversation, where you are only truly interesting if you have a man you can feel passion for. Whether he cares for you back, doesn't know you exist, or is in love with your best friend; it doesn't matter-the ultimate care you have for this being is what the other women cheer you on for, cry with you about. bond with you. A woman's romantic relationship-there lies her corest emotions.
There are other women who flip their hair dispassionately at the merest mention of romantic interest. They have other things on their minds-themselves, predominately-and would rather discuss components of their personal personality. Likes, dislikes, travels, arts choices and life philosophies are the chosen discussion boards for these women. A man is irrational, burdensome, and immature. Liking one makes you just a little weak and foolish, they wouldn't say it; but that look comes into their eyes.
Being a woman, and thus being a cat, I sulk my way through these contrasts. My "And when he hugged me hello, I hope he didn't feel me tremble!" can turn into "He's a cool guy, I like discussion literature choices with him." And in both situations, as the girls eagerly await a chance to say, "me too! EXACTLY!" I know my part and play it, feeling every inch the strongest in both situations.
Funny thing is, it never occurred to me I do this until exactly...now.
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