Honestly, there was always a chance. Or rather, should I say, I've always had my suspicions.
To begin with, I've historically tested disproportionately high for typical male traits on personality assessments.
Given the choice of shopping, decorating, baking or running sprints, which would you pick?
Do others consider you petite, graceful, sweet or unusually aggressive?
I won't tell you which I chose. Let's just say, my grandmother is probably lecturing me in heaven.
Now, some would argue that typically male traits are helpful. As a litigator in a former life, for instance, I'm sure it helped me immensely that I stared in a glassy eyed manner far more often than I wept uncontrollably. I know it helped me when I chugged beers and tipped cows with the judge. Who says sexual favors and plunging necklines are the keys to success?
But it wasn't just my testosteronal character that tipped me off to my ultimate gender reversal.
I always knew it wasn't normal that I'd only put my food on a plate if someone else was actually there to witness the presentation of the meal.
Yes. It was just inevitable that I'd become a man.
And it would have been okay, I think. Nobody in my life ever seemed particularly bothered by my manliness. I always wore just enough Almay One Coat Lengthening Mascara and OPI Matte Coral Reef to sustain the confusion of those around me.
Hhhmmm...she acts like a guy. But she looks like a girl. Hhhhmmm.
Oh, and by the way, it takes much more than one coat.
But, as I was saying, it would have been okay.
Except for one small thing.
I'm single again and dating. And if you look like a girl, it's apparently easier to get a guy if you act like a girl.
But I'll tell you, acting like a girl these days is not easy.
The guys have gotten more girly.
I don't mean that in a cruel way. Just in a manner of comparison. Simply put, I've gotten more manly and they've gotten more...in touch with their softer sides.
Oops. I'm sorry. The correct term is "renaissance."
They've all become renaissance men.
For those of you who haven't dated lately, or who are still dating twenty-somethings, let me explain the renaissance man.
The term derives from the Middle Ages when we - humanity - were stuck in a rut. There was a lot of bad stuff going on back then. In addition to general ignorance, there was superstition, religious persecution and slavery on a societal scale. Luckily, there were some good guys - Sixteenth Century Superheroes - who helped us move forward. They were intensely intellectual. Totally deep. And they were really active too. No couch potatoes here. These dudes were into philosophy, painting, science, sculpture, and writing.
Basically, these brainy saviors were into free thought and the open pursuit of knowledge. They believed in thinking 'outside the box' in an effort to broaden the wisdom and perspective of the individual and society. The Renaissance Man was open to new ideas. And he was really into discussions about these new ideas. And so, today's Renaissance Man is a guy who has knowledge - and appreciation - in many areas of pursuit.
Now, it needs to be emphasized that a really authentic renaissance man isn't just into any kind of ideas.
A guy who's open to learning all about directional tires and the relative affect of a single rotational direction on traction doesn't cut it.
No. The true renaissance man needs to be into art. And food. And music. And literature. You know, culture.
And cartoons in Playboy are not culture. Neither is MTV.
Howard Stern and The Man Show? Not culture.
No. The true renaissance man listens to music by artists you're never heard of and cooks food you've never laid eyes on. He keeps clean folded guest towels on the bathroom counter and decorates in ecru, eggshell, hunter and sage.
The true renaissance man notices your new haircut and how flattering the cut of your jacket is. He hums the harmony for songs you don't even recognize.
And I think renaissance men are great.
I just don't think I look my best next to a renaissance man.
It's one thing to be a girly man...or is that a manly girl...next to a regular kind of beer-drinking, OLN-watching, Doritos-eating guy. Next to one of those cavemen, I don't look so bad.
But put me next to a renaissance man and...well...I look like the man in the relationship.
He's sauteeing snap peas and beetroot marinated in chutney. I'm sprawled on the floor inspecting my toe nails for new bruising from ins and outs on the track.
He's regaling me with tales of his love affair with the villas of Tuscany. I'm calculating the date of my last hot sync.
He's giddy in anticipation of the upcoming mandolin riff in a gaelic favorite from his celtic CD collection. I'm almost positive this is the weekend of the Top Gun movie marathon.
He wants to talk about the strange dreams he's been having since the opening of Cirque de Soleil's newest production. I'm wondering if the smell test would work reliably with the milk in the fridge.
To be frank, it's just really embarassing.
Now don't get me wrong. It's not that I can't be girly.
I know how to wear high heels. And there's a little lacy bow on my bra.
It's just that it's too late to learn major new skills.
I give a great massage, unlimited foot rubs, passionate kisses and damn good IM during the slowest stretches of the workday.