There was a time in my youth that I was one of the guys. I'd even go so far to say a "major-majority" of my friends were male. Not necessarily a bad thing to happen to anyone, and I did have sisters to talk to and hang out with, but I think my personality lent itself better around guys, at least then.
When my early 20s hit, I began a slow accumulation of female friends. One here, two there. People I could relate and talk to about Boys and Barbies and Bracelets. By the time I moved up to Boston in my late 20s, I met a whole group of them in one shot, and now at this point in my life I'd say the ratio runs pretty close to an even 1:1.
Just recently I have signed on to go to the BlogHer Conference in San Jose; a conference that I think anyway is going to be attended exclusively by hundreds of women. People, that is gonna be a lot of estrogen for me to take in. The last time I was surrounded by such a large group of women, I made this dumb remark. Unfortunately for you other attendees (and I suppose people who know me now), I haven't really matured much since then.
The few people that I've told that I'm going actually seem genuinely happy, dare I say, pumped, that I am going (or I guess it's possible that they're really good actors). By their reaction, I am looking forward to it even more. And I can't wait to start kumbaya-ing "Holy Moly" and making random "DANCE OFF!" declarations.
I do, however, have but one fear: that I'll return from this trip so wound up, I'll come back sounding like her:
"You're not conceited, you were just honest."
"I was gonna be the only one with the white swimsuit and then SHE had it TOO."
"I love chewing gum."
Well, I DO love chewing gum.