One of the guys

Peggy Olson:  I know what men think of you: That you’re looking for a husband, and you’re fun. And not in that order.
Joan Holloway: Peggy, this isn’t China. There’s no money in virginity.

I’ll never be one of the guys.

Why?

Do I even want to be?

I dunno.

It’s odd though.  I hear it from my guy friends all the time.  When they think a girl, possibly a friend, or the girlfriend of one of their buddies, is super cool…they say “she’s one of the guys.”

I guess that’s not even remotely close to what I’d want to “be” to any one of them. Or is it? After all, girls who are “one of the guys” never seem to have a problem attracting guys.  But still.  Here I am, past three decades of life, and I’ve realized…I’ll never be “one of the guys.”

It might be because I don’t have brothers and don’t know how to have a completely, 100% platonic friendship with a guy.  Ok, that’s huge.  And maybe something that’s a better topic to share with a close friend or a therapist.  But I dunno.  It’s weird when every guy you ever meet is a potential boyfriend, husband, lover.  I’ve never really known any that couldn’t be.  Besides male relatives of course.  But, I haven’t hung out with them enough to perfect the art.

Though I look at Joan Holloway…Joanie to Richard [Sterling]…you know, from Mad Men?  Now, if I were into girls…she’d be my #1 crush.  She’s sexy hot, curvy, feminine, but she dishes it out…just like the men.  She’s the only girl in the boardroom.  Seriously…even Peggy only goes in when she’s making a pitch to a client.  She’s not afraid of speaking her mind.  She knows how to put people in their place…matter of factly.  Perhaps I watch a lot of Mad Men…it’s true. I’m obsessed with their 1960s’ complexities.  How women are only secretaries.  Yet even in this world, I call places and people assume I’m the secretary.  Still!

But if I could be a Joan…I’d be thrilled.  That’s not to say she’s got it all figured out. She obviously married the wrong guy.  Well, he was the first good one to ask.  She makes mistakes, falls back in to old habits, but never truly exposes her vulnerabilities.  Is that what makes her the type of guyish girl I’d want to be? Because I relate?

But Joan…she relates to Marilyn Monroe.   I mean, remember when she was laying on Roger’s couch, dabbing her eyes?  Roger had to assure her that she wouldn’t end up alone and in despair…like Marilyn had.  Yes.  Like Marilyn had.  Marilyn…one of the sexiest, most feminine, admired women of our pop culture history.  She’d ended up alone, and in despair.

Yet what did Joan want most out of life? To be a well-off housewife.  The ultimate goal of her existence.  And she was pained to think she could possibly be bored, lonely, and miserable as one. Is that the sad fate of a femme fatale? Someone sassy and bold…who never stops being a woman?  Does she end up bored, lonely…in misery?

But I’m not even close to being as strong as Joan.  Unlike her, I have a way of looking at guys, with these puppy dog eyes, a way that makes them feel like they’re more to me than they really are.  It’s not intentional.  But it’s real. A guy once told me, “Don’t look at me with those eyes…” and I thought “What eyes?” No really.  He was accusing me of flirting with my eyes.  I wasn’t.  Honestly.  I didn’t have feelings for him.  Though, I have to admit, the first time we met, I thought maybe I could.  How telling….

Let’s break it down…I read chick lit.  I smell like vanilla.  I don’t wear baseball caps.  I don’t give “thumbs ups”.  I’m scared of the dumbest things. I have a way of whining, that only girls can perfect.  I am sensitive.  Emotional.  I cry…not enough, but I do.  I like having colorful fingernails, long hair, carrying clutches and wearing cute earrings.  I don’t watch sports.  And I don’t really care about them (unless a boy I like does).

I’m educated, independent, and successful.  Yet, I’m not a feminist.

But let’s explore some more.  I’m dramatic.  “Boys” aren’t.  I try too hard.  “Guys” don’t.  I’m not elusive.  And if, for some reason, I’m hard to pin down…it’s probably cuz I’m holding out.  I don’t drink like a fish. No, seriously.  One or two drinks and I’m good.  Better than good.  I seem high maintenance…(I’m totally not…but I’m perceived that way….).  Apparently, guys don’t like that.   I seem like I’d get grossed out easily…but I don’t. I swear.

So what is it that makes a girl “one of the guys” and that makes me the girl who can’t be there “without being there”…? I stand out…as a girl? I speak up…like a girl? It also doesn’t help that have the voice of a little girl.

But it’s important to note that I lose all my wit and intelligence around boys [I like].  I get flustered.  Really.  I forget how astute, calculated, and bright I can be.  Bottom line, I stop acting like myself.  And that makes me a girl.  A girly girl.  A girl’s girl.

My bestie once told a guy I was dating that he was a girl’s man.  Ya know…the opposite of a man’s man.  Sure he smoked cigars, drank stiff cocktails, and wore suits every day.  But he opened doors, ordered for me at restaurants, served me off communal plates, walked on the traffic side of the street, didn’t care a lick about athletics, and enjoyed drama.  Maybe that’s why I liked him.  The way manly men like girls who are “one of the guys.”

And that’s ok.  Like Katy Perry said…”I wanna be one of the girls…pretty in pearls, and not one of the boys.”

 

Photo credit: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/06/19/christina-hendricks-joan-_n_879910.html

 

©2012, Leegal Deeva.  All rights reserved.

the day Hillary Clinton left the house without makeup

The well-known joke goes like this…

Bill and Hillary stop at a gas station in Arkansas.  Hillary recognizes the gas station attendant…after all, he was one of her first boyfriends.  Bill chuckles and says, “Aren’t you happy you married me instead of him?”  Hillary cocks her head back and says, “What do you mean, Bill? If I’d married him, he would have been President.”

As they say, “behind every successful man….”

It was the early 1970s.  They were sitting in a Civil Liberties class at Yale back when men outnumbered women in law schools (women made up less than 3% of law students…as opposed to the standard 51% today).  He kept looking at her.  She was smart, confident, not aggressive, but assertive.  She finally got up and said, “You keep looking at me and I’m gonna look back.  I might as well introduce myself.  I’m Hillary Rodham.”

Image

They were married in 1975 and they lived happily ever after.

What?! WAITASECOND.

She achieved national and international acclaim in the early 1990s when her husband, then governor of Arkansas, was positioning himself as the Democratic national candidate for the presidency.  No one liked her.  Really, they didn’t.  Frizzy hair.  Frumpy dresses.  Boxy suits.  Not too attractive.  But she was there.  On his arm…the arm of a charming, well-spoken, engaging, and quite debonair 42nd president of the United States.

We vilified her.  Called her a B*tch.  Now we respect her.  What did it?  I, for one, was an ambitious 17-year old, impressed by her poise and confidence as she watched her husband face impeachment hearings and public torment due to his misadventures with a buxom, brunette White House intern with a lazy habit when it came to dry cleaning.  But even then, we didn’t sympathize as much as we could (…or should).

The years unraveled.  Everyone (except for Monica Lewinsky…where has she been anyway?) escaped unscathed.  Even their only daughter, Chelsea Clinton, was able to have a legitimate, enviable relationship that blossomed in to an engagement, in 2009, and marriage, in the summer of 2010.  Bill (“the Thrill”) settled in to a life of public appearances, political endorsements, and good-will efforts.  Hillary came in to the light.  First as a New York Senator…and then, as the Secretary of State.

Now, anyone that knows Leegal Deeva knows these few tid bits:

a)     I love Power Couples…it’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself;

b)     I am intelligent and I value guys who are drawn to intelligence;

c)      I was 16 when I made my first (love) promise me that if he became President of the United States (which he said he would become…and it’s not unlikely seeing as he was an Eagle Scout, on his way to the United States Naval Academy…and now a Marine whose been to Iraq, Afghanistan, and more), he would appoint me as the Secretary of State;

d)     I’ve had a life-long obsession with politicians and royalty;

e)     I always imagined being the party-planning wife of a politician (this tid-bit is no longer…I’m over polticians , but that’s a topic for another day and another blog.)

So, it’s only natural that I would be in awe of all Hillary is and what she has achieved.  Not just as a lawyer or a politician…but as a woman and a WIFE.  I do keep up with her news.  Which is why I was stunned, appalled, pained, and emotionally plagued to hear that the blogosphere as well as all legitimate news outlets were getting their panties in a bunch because why? Hillary Clinton had shown her face in public without a smudge of makeup?

Seriously, people! Hillary had to have quit her modeling career as early as 1970 because since then, she’s been a practicing attorney, and someone who strives and achieves far more than your average Jane Doe who looks like she’s been dipped in a vat of concealer every day.  And last time I checked, the likes of Giselle Bunchen and Ryan Gossling aren’t working in Poltics.

Everyone was on her case.  I mean this is not a woman who is a stranger to having her entire life dissected in the media.  But seriously? She’s a 64 year old woman.   She’s never gotten anywhere (sorry, Hill!) based on her looks or her beauty.  And to expect “beauty” of an attorney and/or politician…it’s really unfair!  She hasn’t put herself out there as an actress.  She wasn’t our Sophia Loren or Linda Evans (I’m really sad about how Linda looks nowadays, by the way…super super sad).  We don’t get to say Hillary looked ugly.  We don’t get to dictate that she look beautiful at all times.

Regardless of where you find yourself in the world of politics (I lean to the right), the idea that any of us would hold the Secretary of State, a woman, to the beauty standards of actresses her age is simply bizarre.  No one pays her to look beautiful.  No one pays her to get her hair done, or her makeup done.  If she chooses to go makeup-free for a day, it’s her choice.  And I commend her.

But the rest of you, who judged her, like you’d judge a high school classmate for having acne or frizzy hair, sent a little message out in to the world that when you’re a woman, you have to look good doing whatever you’re doing…even if it’s serving as the President’s chief foreign affairs advisor.

Hillary, thanks for not giving a sh*t.  Thanks for having the courage to dismiss the criticism.  After all, she said, “You know, at some point, it’s just not something that deserves a lot of time and attention. I feel so relieved to be at the stage I’m at in my life right now, and if others want to worry about it, I let them do the worrying for a change.”

Seriously.

As a woman who sometimes goes without makeup but does want to succeed, I find you truly inspirational.  Thank you, Madame Secretary.

 

©2012, Leegal Deeva.  All rights reserved.