The Punk Club

Some friends of mine and I were having a drink or two and "talkin' a likkle shite" and, of course, when you have two or more girls in the room, and alcohol is involved, the conversation inevitably turns to men and either a. what man of the day is pissing said girl(s) off, b. how men ain't 'shit', or c. who are we crushing on? Now, I am a firm believer in not generalizing: I am not one of those women who run around saying men ain't shit, because they're not, no one woman has met every man, and, if the men you keep encountering ain't shit on a consistent basis, then, well, it's time to examine yourself. You are the common denominator here - not them. With that said, we wound up talking about who we liked vs. who we didn't.

Now. I have a felt covered box here that I will use as my platform to stand on and testify: "I am a proud, card carrying member of The Punk Club, and I am about to upgrade my status to platinum". There. What is a punk, you may ask? Well, let's go back to my girlfriends' conversation. I recently told someone I am digging that I was, well, digging them. It came up after an interesting IM conversation that we were having, and, after much prodding, my hands were possessed by some other worldly creature, and the next thing I knew, I was telling (read: typing to) them I dug them. Their reaction was what I was expecting and a large portion of the reason I was hesitant at saying anything in the first place, but it was all good, it was out there, and I was free to re-stick my head back in the sand like the good ostrich I was. So as I was relaying this information to my homegirls, they chimed in with their recent de-punking experiences, all drastically different and yet the same. Only one abstained - she is already married. (One of these things is not like the other...one of these things just doesn't belong...lol)

In our musings, I realized something: being a punk is fun and nerve wracking all at the same time. In being a punk, you can have a good time without ever actually having to consider feelings or consequences. Seemingly, no one's feelings are truly invested, no one gets hurt, everyone gets what they want...right? Then there's the nerve wracking portion of things: the part where your stomach turns into one large Boy Scout knot because you have, indeed, caught a little bit of feelings (not love or anything drastic, just a little bit) and now you are forced to figure out how long can you go on feeling the way you might feel and not say anything.

You see, in 'homielovafriend' relationships, rest assured that SOMEONE always has feelings. Say what you will, deny it if you must to get through your day, but one person in the party has feelings, and either they'll say it or they won't, but they're there. For me, as a person who has had one or three 'homielovafriend' things (no relationships here, still trying to figure out me), I can say that when I was the one with the feelings, saying how I felt never bode well for me, regardless of my reasons for saying what I was thinking. A part of the reason for this is that usually, these types of relationships are built on fear: fear of the unknown, fear of liking someone and what that might entail, and/or fear of falling in the 'L' word. With that, very rarely do you find someone who steps outside their fearful comfort zone to find someone on the other side, outside their comfort zone as well. As a result, one party is left to either walk away - or play their position and see what happens.

For my friends, I'm not sure what the story holds for them. For me, however, I am returning to the sand, where it's comfortable and safe. I will say that the sand is getting a little annoying...so maybe I won't be there for much longer. Who knows. Perhaps I will soon be able to hand over my club membership to someone else who needs it, as I am working on getting rid of my fears. But for now, sand city it is.

Who else is with me?

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