Boys.

I grew up in a house full of girls.  There was a mom, three daughters, two girl horses, a girl dog and a girl puppy, and then a girl cat.  Amidst all of the hair and estrogen, a very humble man managed to keep his sanity, and that man was my Dad.

When I started grade one, I was introduced to a new species: The Boy.  They were short little critters, with short hair and Hot Wheel backpacks, that liked to kick balls and throw rocks.  They were fascinating.  It wasn't long before I gave up playing House at recess to see what these boys were all about.  I was captivated.  Boys rarely ever cried, they hardly ever held grudges, and they played soccer.  I was hooked.  As the years of Elementary School wore on, Boys taught me how to play football, and in grade six I became the son my Father never had by playing Pee-Wee Football.  As far as I was concerned, I was pretty much a boy.

The next year, things changed in a very sudden and abrupt manner.  Junior High happened.  Gone were the days of recess, replaced by the days of "Top 5's", "Going-Out", and "Boy-Girl Parties".  It was no longer alright to hang out with boys or to pretend to be one.  If you can imagine, I was surprised.  But nothing surprised me more than "The Rules".

Created and enforced by my dear mother, "The Rules" made very little sense and were a powder keg for argument.  What did it matter if I was the only girl hanging out with a bunch of guys?!  Who cared if we chose to watch a movie at a boy-girl party?!  It eventually became obvious why each one of these rules were enforced, except for one; and that one single rule had me and my sisters snarling and gnashing our teeth for who knows how long.

ABOMINABLE RULE = "Do not call boys"

Stupid right!?  Who cares if I call a boy!?  In fact, most boys I ever came across told me to call them!  And these crazy girls I now had to hang out with called boys all the time during slumber parties!  It just didn't make any sense.  I thought my mom loved me.  This rule could only mean that my mom wanted to prevent me from ever having a boyfriend, getting married, and being truly happy in life.  


Although I strongly disagreed with this rule, I kept it (truth be told, it was mostly because I didn't have the guts to break it).  As time went on, the creation of MSN Messenger eased the pain and I was able to speak to boys whether my mom liked it or not!  Ha!  Just Kidding...  Anyways, I eventually grew up, moved out, and was bequeathed the power to phone anyone I wanted.  Hallelujah!  However, by this point I began to understand the logic behind this simple rule:

Good boys call girls.

Could it be possible that my mom really knew this all along?  I think yes.  By enforcing this rule, my mom was actually helping me to distinguish a good boy from a bad boy.  It's really quite simple, you see:  

• A good boy will not tell a girl to call him if he is interested in her.
• A good boy will politely ask for a girls phone number.
• A good boy will make the phone call.

I'll admit to feeling quite hopeless at times.  There just aren't that many good boys around nowadays!  However, I'm glad to report that they do exist.  So don't lose hope girls, I promise you'll be much happier with a guy that doesn't make you pick up the phone and dial his number.  And guys, you know what to do, so do it. 

Now if you will excuse me, I'm expecting a call any minute now from a good boy.  Adios!