One of the guys?

Over the years I’ve heard a lot of women take the angle that they’re just “one of the guys.” Really?

I get it, they’re tying to fit in. To prove they can make it in a male-dominated field. Maybe they’ve convinced themselves that they’re “one of the guys” but I’d love to ask the guys they work with – honestly – are they buying it?

My theory (and some of my XY friends please weigh in) is that it’s pretty hard to overlook the fact that you’re a woman.

Yes, there does seem to be a trend right now in magazines like Maxim to feature insanely hot actresses or models who love weekends of college football and giant, greasy cheeseburgers. But don’t be confused girls. Neither Mila Kunis, Gabrielle Union, nor Brooklyn Decker will ever be mistaken for “one of the guys,” whether she can belch the alphabet on cue or not.

Maybe the women I’ve worked with think guys find this attitude “cool.” Maybe they think sameness is the way to succeed. Maybe these XX’s are confusing being “one of the guys” with enjoying spending time/hanging out/working/sharing interests/being friends with guys.

Also fellow XX’s lest we forget there are some pretty major advantages to guys remembering that we’re not “one of them.” My husband is a runner and he recently had me laughing so hard I was in tears as he explained the etiquette difference between running when “the girls come” and when it’s just the guys. He also inadvertently provided me with years of ammunition that yes, he can control his bodily functions if he wants to.

Finally, don’t get me wrong, I’m far from perfect here. I’ve tagged along with the guys when I’m pretty sure they wished I hadn’t. Sorry for that. And thanks for still hanging out with me. But more often I’ve had a great time with the guys.  Just recently I found myself at a table full of male co-workers at a dinner. I appreciated being included.  I didn’t feel awkward or out of place. (Maybe they did but they hid it well.) But I’m pretty sure that while I put away my food like a guy, no one at that table forgot – even for a second -- that I am, and forever will be, an XX.