COLUMN: I want the joy of being a boy

Allison Pritchard

Do you ever wonder what it would be like if women never called, screwed their boyfriend’s best friends, spit in front of you, didn’t comb their hair and stared at your chest like it was Jesus Christ himself?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a man.

Hell, I’d actually prefer having a penis instead.

For one day, I’d like to experience life in the eyes of an XY chromosomed specimen. You could call me Al.

I’d kill to be able to eat a Supersized Extra Value Meal and then, two hours later, down a 6-pack without the slightest feeling of guilt. No more agonizing over how many slices or “is that low-fat?”

If I were a man, I’d dress in style instead of just the typical T-shirt and jeans that Joe Blow College wears. I’d even spring for a pink Abercrombie polo shirt. I might even shock myself and pop the collar.

As a male, you’d bet your ass I’d know how to work it. I would get up and strut my stuff on the dance floor. Instead of the lame back and forth sway of the typical male co-ed, I’d bust a move like Usher himself.

I wonder what it would be like to pick up a girl. I would never call her again, naturally. But it would be freakin’ awesome to get a girl in bed with me. She’d cuddle up next to me, thinking that it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship and I’d be thinking it’s the beginning of a beautiful one-night-stand.

I’d feel free to do her friends too. And I wouldn’t worry about spitting or farting in front of her. Nah. The best part is if I suddenly decided to stop talking to her, my friends wouldn’t tell me what a horrible person I was.

As another plus of my newfound manhood, I’d have much better chance at having an orgasm. I wouldn’t have to worry about hitting that right spot. The whole damn thing is the right spot!

Not to mention I wouldn’t have to deal with the emotions of being a girl. No more getting upset when a friend doesn’t call you back, no more calling that girl a “real bitch.”

Over analyzing every “whatever” and “fine” would be a thing of the past.

Never again would I squat over the vintage toilet seats in Bowman and Satterfield. I’d give a shot at peeing in the bushes.

A most thrilling thing about my manhood would be the absence of the beloved monthly crimson wave. Honestly, we all know periods don’t come on Sunday afternoon while doing College Algebra homework. No, they come halfway through an exam or some other wondrously convenient moment.

As a man, the 4-6 ratio of males to females at Kent State would actually work in my favor. I wouldn’t have to worry about finding someone special, just about finding someone to get it on with. Truthfully, there are plenty more decent-looking girls on campus than guys. Let’s face it, the few good-looking, nice boys in the dorm aren’t looking to meet a nice girl – they are more interested in finding a foot-long hot dog than ringing your Taco Bell.

Allison Pritchard is a junior electronic media production major and a humor columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Contact her at [email protected].