Men Are Like Bicycles
Posted By: Ms. That Girl | March 10, 2010 | 3 comments
Who remembers their first 3-wheeler? The shiny red tricicle that’s become a symbol of the perfect American childhood- what so many of us were thilled to find under the Christmas tree, that kept our 4-year-old-belief in Old St. Nick alive- wrapped in a big white ribbon just WAITING to be mounted. A child’s first chance to feel the wind in his hair, his first taste of freedom. What a beautiful thing the tricycle was. And it only got better.
Who remembers the day Dad took the training wheels off? The rush of nervous excitement that accompanied this monumental event is one that burns in our memory forever. Those useless baby-wheels got tossed into the garage, and it was time for the first push. How far can I go without falling? How many times will I fall before I get the hang of it? Oh, all the different places I can go now that I’m a big kid! Dad lets go. 3…2…1… curb. FUCK. Falling hurts like a bitch! You didn’t think it was gonna be that bad, but it was and you’ll never forget that either. Oh, well. Back up. 5…4…3…2…1… sidewalk. Hey, ya made it a little longer- but you scraped the shit out of your knee. So, you try a couple more times and FINALLY you get it. It’s official. You ride bikes.
Now. After these two major hurdles, the rest of your bike-riding career is smooth sailing. Or so you think…
I don’t know why, but…it all just kind of reminds me of… dudes.
As vividly as my first trike, I remember my first semi-boyfriend. He had spikey blonde hair and stood a staggering 4 ft tall. I’ll never forget the day he kissed me behind the jungle-gym. I would’ve married that boy right then and there. For the first time, I felt like a super-mini version of a grown up. He was my first fruity, peanut-buttery, chocolate milky taste of romance. Though our courtship was short lived because he was more interested in Power Rangers than he was me.
A couple grades later, I had developed a crush on a much more mature 5th grader. He and I hung out a couple times and we seemed to hit it off because we both liked Pac-Man. We kissed once or twice because we thought that’s what we were supposed to do because we hung out in his basement, but each time was just as awkward as the last. But for like 3 weeks we called ourselves “boyfriend and girlfriend”, and the training wheels came off. I was ready for anything.
Needless to say, that didn’t last as he moved on to Middle School and I was still stuck in Elementary. I wasn’t sad, though- just excited for things to come. Newer, better, shinier versions of him. The upgrades were endless.
So in and out of my life they came and went- and just like each new growth-adjusted bicycle, everytime I fell, I fell harder and harder. You learn to fall less, though. That shit only happened when a cat jumped out into the side walk, or the rain made the roads slick. Same with my relationships. I got more mature with each one and eventually became a pro. My relationship problems were merely bumps in the road, not end-all-be-all shit. But, boyyyyyy, did those first few breakups smart!
Hmmm…I think what reminds me most of a guy, when I think about a bicycle is this: At 16, we get cars. And then, bikes are lame.
According to my Prince Charming, Mr. This Guy- women are like cars. Yes, we are. We are always changing, evolving into new models, and upgrading ourselves. The prettiest of us desired by all. So, thank you, darling.
But I guess what I’m trying to say is…
Bikes will always be bikes, just like men will always be men. Useful sometimes, but never on a daily basis.
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Ms. That Girl March 11, 2010 at 9:11 pm
Thanks guys. I couldn’t just let him get away thinkin’ he made a good point.
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