Boys have never really featured in my life. I attended an all-girls’ Catholic primary and secondary school and I am now in my third year of study to become a primary school teacher, a female dominated profession.
I fluffed the shot, of course, and the sliotar dribbled pathetically along the grass. The pack of boys laughed on. I don’t think I owned a razor at the time. I didn’t understand this boy, if this is what boys were like, then I didn’t need that kind of disappointment in my life.In secondary school, boys were these alien creatures who rode their BMX bikes through the school gates on the opposite side of the road.
It was not meant for concealing your “repulsive fatness” under a towel. It is my female friends who have walked me through the irregular periods and breast lumps. They squeezed my hand during painful at-home DIY hair removals. It was the girls who I stuffed tissues in my bra with before our first underage disco in the Gaeltacht in Connemara. It was a female friend who gave me step by step instructions over Facetime when I couldn’t locate my vagina trying to insert a tampon age 15.
I do not mean to do men a disservice . There are men in my life that I am grateful I can turn to but my brother has grown up with two older sisters, listening to tales of menstrual cups and bra malfunctions and my dad is a trained psychotherapist and practicing Yogi . These males who are central in my life, who I love and who are so hugely important to me; I don’t think they are representative of the wider Irish male population.
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