Friday, May 13, 2011

Real men paint their fingernails

We’re sitting around the living room, Jessica painting Edwin’s nails with clear nail varnish, as he talks to us about something serious. A few minutes go by before I realize how absurd this would look at home. But here, even my friend Peter who likes hip-hop and rap, and dresses the part, lets his little sisters paint his nails.

I get my hair cut, nothing dramatic, my Mom doesn’t even notice in our skype chat. I walk in the door to our weekly meeting and run into Alex who’s been visiting family for over a month. Greetings out of the way, the first thing he says after not seeing me for 6 weeks is ‘you got your hair cut”. Bored of always wearing my hair the same way, one day I put half of it up in a ponytail. Fabian’s first words on seeing me are “new look?”. Whoever said men aren’t detail oriented hasn’t met these men.

I’m leaving the 127 house, headed across the road to catch a bus home. Someone whistles at me from the sidewalk. I ignore it, and keep walking. There’s usually a group of students at the store and looking just encourages them. And then I pause. It could be Edwin. I risk a glance behind me, and there he is, standing at the door and smiling. Whistles, winks, flirtatious comments that aren’t meant to be taken seriously, I’m still trying to work out how to know when someone is serious.

They open the door and let me walk through first, walk on the street side of the sidewalk, (sometimes) carry heavy things without me even asking, walk me to the bus stop and wait with me when it’s dark, worry about how I’m getting home if it’s late. But they also get up and walk away from the table when they’re done eating, leaving the rest of us to hurry up and catch up. They tell lies when they don’t think it matters. They hunt me down, hold me still and dump water on me in a birthday party gone just a bit wild. Not quite knights in shining armor, or perfect gentleman, but definitely guys I’m glad to have as friends.

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