Sandbox

I could have met her in a sandbox. I could have passed her on the sidewalk. Would I have even known back then? Most likely not, but then some things come up that make me wonder if I actually knew of her, but didn’t know her. Could that be possible? I imagine we would be fighting over who gets the shovel and who gets the pale. Who scoops the sand and who builds the castle. I can see us pouring mounds of wet, grainy sand on one another’s tiny toes just to be spiteful. To see who would cry first. Who could hold out from throwing a full fledged temper tantrum, or at least a good foot stomping and pouting session. Even all grown-up, the level of maturity between is just outstanding. The only thing missing is the classic lines of..."I know you are, but what am I?" "I’m rubber and you’re glue..." "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but..."

Need proof? This is part of our conversation last night, obviously these aren’t our real screen names...

A Boy That Is Me (12:24:52 AM): that's mean
A Girl That Is She (12:24:59 AM): youre mean
A Boy That Is Me (12:25:03 AM): I'm not mean
A Girl That Is She (12:25:10 AM): im not mean either

Let's be a little more mature, or rather "pretend" to act a little more mature. I promise to stop acting like a dumb boy if you promise to stop acting like a silly girl. Fair enough? Ok, who am I kidding? Immaturity is our thing. We laugh at poop jokes. We share a sense of humor equal to that of two 10-year-old boys.

I don’t like fighting, but I’ll admit that I’ve tried to purposely pick a fight with her before simply to have make-up sex. And yes, I know that's wrong, but I do it anyway. The thing is, she never falls for it, never! She’s always ontop of my game. I love and hate that. I’m not used to being outwitted, but with her, I’ve met my match. If that’s not bad enough, she’s exploiting my weakness by using it against me! My weakness being her. Damn smart woman. And damn their clever ways. And the allure of their perfume, their soft skin, how they giggle. Oops, sorry. I got carried away there.

If we were back in grade school right now, I would be pulling your pigtails and you would be kicking me in the shin. Or maybe you would chase me around the playground and throw rocks at me for being a stupid boy. Or would you resort to just spitting on me? In return I would be pushing you to the ground when no one was looking, but secretly hoping you didn’t scrape your knee. No matter how the hostility unfolded, deep down we would know the truth as to why we both do it. All the meanness is just a mask. You know I would always pick you first for my kickball team, even if you did suck. So go ahead. You can confess now too. The reality is you adore me. And it’s me that is made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Girls are made of snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails. Right? Just nod your head yes so we can stop fighting now and get to the make-up sex. We will both feel better after. Trust me.