Of Boys and Girls and Guys and Dolls

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I recently read this piece via a link on Jezebel and forwarded it to a friend of mine with whom I’ve previously discussed the differences in the male and female transitions to adulthood, namely that there’s no female equivalent of the schlubby but loveable man-child archetype that seems to be Judd Apatow’s cinematic stock in trade. We can be manic pixie dream girls, I suppose or neurotic Bridget Jones types, but Peter Pan is off-limits (Mary Martin’s androgynous portrayal be damned, I guess).

Putting aside the author’s very obvious Daddy issues, the notion of guys vs. men and girls vs. women is a pertinent one for those of us in our twenties and early thirties. Among my peers, I can’t think of a single one (even those who are married homeowners with children)  I’d refer to as a man or woman. Women and men are my older colleagues, my parents, still very much the adult other. It’s a case of semantic arrested development. Although, I would argue, in contrast to Calbert, that the majority of guys are very much aware of the existence of men and that they see themselves as such (or at least aspire to reach that milestone – Seth Rogen characters notwithstanding), even if their characteristics don’t line up with her stereotypically mid-century masculine conception of the term.

Things are a little different on the XX side (woman comes with its own set of assumptions and connotations).  And I’ll admit that I’m downright prickly about pseudo-demographic categorization. While I would snicker if you referred to me as a woman (young woman I suppose I could live with), I also loathe emails that begin with “Hey, ladies” or phrases such as girls’ night out. And don’t get me started on gal or chick.  I know that I don’t have much in common with an eight year-old (mad love of merry-go-rounds aside), but there’s really no decent,  female-specific equivalent for guy;  girl seems to creep in by cringe-worthy default.

Which makes this a perfect time to inform you of my long-term campaign for the widespread unisex adoption of dude*. Salutation, multi-purpose exclamation (conveys happiness, sadness and/or suprise), term of endearment; there’s little that dude can’t do. Now if only someone would alert the NYT.

*Not to be confused with my long-term Twitter campaign to make hussy happen. It’s like an awesome hybrid of hustle and sassy. What could be better?