The Men in My Life

by Delilah

 

Ever so often I make a big deal of the concept of ‘girlfriends’ in this clichéd spirit of ‘pink power’. But I realize that I have somehow failed to bestow a similar compliment on my guy friends.

Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard any girl raving about her guy pals the way she does about her girlfriends.

Is it because we conveniently assume that, being the macho bunch they are, guys don’t really expect to be overtly appreciated???

As much as I love my girlfriends, I can’t imagine life without the boys.

There are 4 of them.

The first one I met 10 years ago, the last one 5 years ago and the other two fall somewhere in between.

They tease me mercilessly, call me names, scold me, boss me around and play the devil’s advocate.

But they also take care of me, spoil me and inspire me in their own way.

They  put up with my tantrums, give me advice, drive me around, drag me to the doctor, listen to my office woes, dry my tears, offer to beat up people who hurt me, carry me when I fall – literally, hold my hand through injections, bring me flowers etc.

The first, is the one I’m most comfortable with. I could probably undress in front of him and not feel shy at all. He’s absolutely reliable, loyal and comically over reacts to every darn thing. With years of practice, he can read my moods like a book and he has seen me through the hardest times of my life.  In all 10 years of being friends, we’ve had only one little spat and even then we stayed mad at each other for only about half a day.

Second comes the baby. We met about 8 years ago and hated each other at sight. Had many a battle of wits till we finally called a truce and discovered that we could actually like each other immensely. He’s years younger than me, unspoilt, rather quiet and he’s got a heart of gold. But sadly, he now lives a million miles away and I see him only once every year. He certainly taught me never to judge people based on first impressions.

The third is possibly the one who loves me the most, but understands me the least. When I first met him, he terrified me. He was loud, rude and walked about with an attitude bigger than himself. He also drove like a maniac, smoked like a chimney and talked like a gangster. So naturally, I avoided him like the plague. The ice was finally broken when I started seeing a friend of his. Underneath his crusty exterior I found him to be the biggest marshmallow on earth. He’s fussy and over-protective like a mother-hen and he constantly smothers me with affection. Although I often complain that he nags, it feels good to know that there’s someone who loves me this much.

The fourth came along about 5 years ago. And I suspect he’s the one who knows me best and the one that I feel closest to. I swear sometimes he can read my mind. He’s a dreamer, a romantic and a kindred spirit. There’s a little bit of him in me and a bit of me in him. We could talk all night or not say a word, but still feel just as close. We can discuss music, books, movies, travel, history, religion, dreams and even the stars.  Somehow he always seems to know what I’m talking about. It’s a rare connection.  If I were to be stuck on a deserted island, he’s the one I would take. I only wish I had met him sooner.

The best part is that all four of them are good friends too. Together we make up what has been aptly referred to as the ‘mad set’. I often say how much I love them but they deserve so much more. And even though they may not always say the words, they make me feel so loved, just by being there.

So this one’s for the boys. For my ones – who will never read this – and for all those guys out there who are anything like them.

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