Scared of Girls

i am a fountain, a virtual Old Faithful of happiness at the moment. We just came home from our weekend in LA which culminated in the most jaw droppingly beautiful, moving and simply lovely baby shower I ever could have imagined. Already Baby Sweazy is the most fabulously outfitted fetus this side of the Mississippi, and with a nursery waiting to be stocked with the cutest toys, books and fuzzy blankets. I think baby's 20-some aunts was the greatest gift, though.

There's a band in LA who somehow got my name on their email list. I don't ever remember hearing them play, but every now and then, Scared of Girls writes to let me know they've got an upcoming gig at the Viper Room. These emails always cracked me up and unsettled me at the same time, because they were scary appropriate. I've always been scared of girls. If I started a band, I'd be jealous the name was taken, because surely all my songs - when not about high school boys breaking my heart - would be about the high school girls that broke my heart. The group I ran with were generous and fun but they were high school girls - they made up mean songs about my fixation with my hair (granted - I touched it way too much) and said terrible things about me, because that is what high school girls do. I sincerely believe that like an Indian's walking across coals or an East African tribal warrior's circumcision at age 16, being bullied and shunned by a girl posse is an America teenager's essential rite of passage. But I think that unlike most people, I never really got over it. I realize now that it was always easier to risk kissing and curling a leg around the torso of a boy who might never call than to simply offer up my heart to a girl in friendship, because the latter was simply too terrifying.

Yet, somehow I made friends despite the paralyzing fear. And I'm not exaggerating the fear. Some people reading this may recall the migraine I developed at my bridal shower. Yes, I was tired and hadn't eaten much, but that was because I was simply terrified at having to be the center of so much female attention. So my head tried to give me an out by exploding. In light of this weekend I'm almost embarrassed to be revealing so much about this, but almost. I can talk about it because of Sunday.

Today, I received several emails from various people at the shower commenting on what an amazing group of friends I have. I found myself stunned by the fact that other people outside myself had actually observed this. Because this just confirmed it wasn't some lovely dream curled up all catlike and out of reach. I know I got all teary and emotional at the shower when I clumsily - but honestly - tried to thank every person in the room for being there, because it is true. I do have an amazing group of women I'm privileged to call friends, who lift me up just by thinking of them and break my heart not through cruel songs this time, but because I cannot fit them all into my suitcase and spirit them away to Memphis.

When Caleb picked me up at the airport, he told me about his dream last night. We were visiting his mom and he was out on the driveway when he noticed a little girl inside a parked car. He asked her what she was doing and if she wanted to come inside, but she just smiled at him and acted shy. I showed him the very girl-centric thank you notes I bought today, and we both laughed that we were on the same wavelength. Maybe it's a girl in there. One who will grow up to be battle-scarred by high school girls only so that she can appreciate the grace and beauty of female friendship when it bonks her on the head.