The Joys and Sorrows of Being Friends with Boys

Over the years I have learned that I have certain limitations when it comes to friendship.  That is to say, I can't deal with drama and have trouble tip-toing around people and their little quirks and insecurities.  As a side point, I am rife with quirks, insecurities and drama, and I require that people deal with me.  That reduces my friend choices drastically to 1) an interesting and awesome subset of rare females and 2) almost every male on the planet.

It's not as if I think this is okay.  I'm trying to work on my flaws so that some day all the peoples of the world will want to be my best friend, but that is a slow process, and until then I need people to listen to my crap.  Don't take it the wrong way--I love listening to their crap as well, but it seems like everyone has their crap much more together than I do.  Which leaves me the one doling out the majority of the crap. CRAP.

The females who manage to put up with me to the point of the closeness of sisters are truly to be applauded for their fortitude.  I have most likely been mean to them, tried to make out with them, made horrible jokes at their expense, and cried for extended periods of time on the phone with them while they were trying to get some sleep. 

For you boys, I have mixed feelings.  I thought it might help to make a brief list of pros and cons.  If cons win, you can pack your bags.

Cons:

1. You talk about what just happened in the bathroom.  That's no good.  I despise any mention of bowel movements.  You talk about them ALL THE TIME. You talk to each other about the size. the shape, the frequency. This makes me die on the inside.  Who can find you attractive when you speak of such things?
2. You quote South Park AD NAUSEUM. I like that show, too, but it's almost as if you purposely choose the most unattractive dialogue of the show to repeat over and over.  Please stop. It makes me unattracted to you as a group.
3. You are really, really terrible at cleaning up.  I know for sure because I've asked you to do this on many occasions, and each time you made the mess worse.  How, I don't know.  But you did. You suck at cleaning up.
4. I'm constantly terrified that you will find someone you like better than me.  Who needs Cuppycake when you find someone hotter and smarter that you can also make out with? 

Pros:

1. My crazy behavior often goes un noticed by you, as you are busy focusing on maybe my butt or whether you can see my nipples through my top.  What's even better is when one of my special unterus-possessing friends is present, in which case I can act completely insane because there are twice as many tops to look down and thighs to ogle.  I think that if the Unibomber had boobs, society would have been inclined to overlook things, chalking it up to the stress of being so awesome.
2. Most women enter the home of another woman and start taking dilligent notes of their surroundings, estimating when last the ceiling fans were dusted and mentally rearranging the furniture.  I can depend on you guys never notice such mundane details.  I could drag all my furniture to the center of the living room and light it on fire, then sprinkle the contents of the cat box to and fro throughout the rest of my home, and but since neither of these activities interfere with drinking beer or playing video games, you wouln't say a word in judgment. 
3. You are cute and often adorable to look upon. This especially applies when you are angry about something that really you shouldn't be angry about, perhaps some perceived injustice such as the Yankees sweeping the Sox, or maybe you spilled your beer or got pee on your shorts. 
4. Very little mental effort is involved in our relationships.  The emotional exhertion normally necessary in a female friendship is replaced by the occasional physical laor of baking cupcakes or doing your laundry.  These tasks are much more manageable than attempting to successfully navigate the estrogen-laden social obstacle course of a baby shower or "girls' night" on the town.  I choose cupcakes!

So I guess we are at a stalemate.  But come to think of it, who the hell cares how bad you are at cleaning up?  I can do my own freaking dishes.