I realize I’m talking to one of the Shes. My friends called them “Granola Girls” in college, particularly in reference to me: “I don’t think she’s all that, but Greg will like her because she’s a Granola Girl.” But I will not use that term anywhere else in this post because it’s condescending and derogatory. I’ll call them the Shes simply because I don’t have some catch-all phrase handy. My friends were right about one thing: I like them.
They generally dress in earth tones and second hand thrift store clothing, sometimes splashed with turquoise jewelry. I’ve noticed that when you get closer to the heart of the city, their clothes turn blacker and sleeker. But all the Shes share a similar sensibility: disdain for materialism. Often vegetarian. Artistic.
I’m out of practice. I’ve forgotten how they deftly sidestep the usual conversational dead weights and quickly proceed to matters of substance. Within five minutes of being introduced, I suddenly realize we’re on the topic of family and how it changes your life to live either close to them or far away from them.
She says, “It was a little easier in some respects to live across the country from my family. I couldn’t feel their disapproval when I quit my Internet company to start my arts and crafts business.”
She’s not just a She; she’s a defector. You don’t meet one of those every day. I say, “It’s easy to deal with family. Just carry cloves of garlic, and sometimes holy water.”
She smiles, but only faintly; she understands the line for what it is, a placeholder instead of an actual contribution. I have to be careful around the Shes. The usual banter quickly sputters and stalls around them.
Somewhere else in the room, someone is recounting a story about herself and a well-known writer. She carefully repeats the name of the writer several times, and her voice edges slightly higher every time she does so. This conversational gambit is the exact opposite of the She mentality. They do not care about famous people or glamour by association. And, in fact, I never really expect to impress the Shes. They will ask what I do and I will say that I work for a technology consulting firm and their eyes will dip down. Sometimes I think about spicing up my answer a bit:
But in truth, I have no interest in lying to them or even really impressing them. This isn’t about lust. The band Cake has a song called “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” about fetishizing the polar opposite of the Shes, the tightly wound corporate woman:
She’s touring the facilities and picking up the slack
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long, long jacket
But that’s Cake and this is me. The position I’m staking out here is simply one of appreciation and respect. Shes: whenever you invite me to dinner, I like how you serve strange things with multi-colored sauce and it’s almost always good. I like how you create crafty objects out of thin air, like an army of artistic MacGyvers. I like how you force me to weigh each thing I say so that I can be sure to extend and deepen the conversation. I still like cheeseburgers, but I like you.
i like this part of you.
I consider myself a little she she - kind of natural looking, working a super do-gooder job, an occasional knitter and crafter, interested in cooking from scratch, etc. Your She sounds kind of boring if she can’t laugh and enjoy a vampire joke. I hope you find one who’s a little more fun than the arts and crafts girl who used to work in the internet industry.
i do too much of the conversational placeholder stuff myself, mainly because people who are more She than i make me conversationally nervous.
i like your tribute.
Yes, I used to be drawn to that type as well, but, just as you benefit from the intellect and conversationalism, they could benefit from your humour. Find a she that has a sense of humour and hang onto her forever.
Ooooh, and cargo pants. I don’t know what’s up with the cargo pants. Maybe it makes them feel more outdoorsy. Like driving an SUV, only not evil.
There is a fine line though, yes? Should you need to try so hard to be the person the shes will like? This may be one of those situations where one tries to be the person they think they want to be/should be. Just don’t try so hard, is all I’m saying.
That said, there’s nothing sexier than someone who gets past the small talk immediately and sees through your bullshit.
I respect The Shes. I believe that some of your archetypal Shes are a part of my life and history as well. We, my friend, are from She Country. (Hey Kathy!) They are a cut above.
They know all of the cool house-sits across the nation. You know, the houses with the hand-crafted hot tubs and backyard Edens. They are the women that have their sights set on life’s horizon. They must have listened to their elders, because they dance right past so many of life’s dead ends.
Alas, they maketh me too exhausted with all of the hyper-real-ness to consider trying to make a life with one. Too much sense, not enough silly. Good for the planet, bad for The Dan. Give me someone I can laugh with and I will deal with my inevitable cancers. Life’s too too perfect for perfectionism.
Oh, housesitting--that’s brilliant. Definitely a feature.
I am not a SHE, but the ones I know are HILARIOUS. I liked this a lot, Greg, especially “Moon Unit 100101” and “I like how you serve strange things with multi-colored sauce and it’s almost always good”. You are great, Greg, you are a HE.
i have found that most of the “shes” i have met are in to other “shes”, if you know what i mean. not to worry i find my self drawn to then too and wanting to be one.
Gosh, you’re a cutie and damn funny.
My brother used to call me a granola chic and I’m a vegetarian. Hmmm. But I like to wear pink and anything that sparkles, in conjunction with the army green. Maybe I’m a She with a cotton candy edge. I’m rarely serious and I work for a technology firm as a developer. And I like Star Wars.
I think I’m a good balance of a She and a Geese
I’m an It. And I don’t mean that in an It Girl way. I mean it in the clown from It kind of way.
Wait, I’m reading over these comments and some of them have a very personal ads kind of feel to them. For some reason, I think that if they really were, no one would respond to mine.
I agree with you Melly, on the personal ads comment, that is. I think we’re flirting with Geese.
Clowns are hot.
“if I can’t dance ...” Yes, I know you’re admiring, but they just don’t sound like a lot of fun. Serious can be seriously funny; it ought to be: funny, obscene, casual, loose, frivolous, and stone hot.
I think I used to be a She. It’s a little harder to “cut through the conversational deadweights” out here in the Burbs. I’ve had to make do with the open fear I apparently inspire. Just can’t get the hang of Stepford-speak.
I love this.
This makes me want to write about my Hims.
had no idea men like you actually existed.
I like this part of you too. I like that men like you exist as well, because I can be a she, I have been a she, I admire she’s, only I am not as cool on a regular basis to be considered a she.
Plus I shave my armpits. Oh wait, you didn’t include that, did you?
damn dirty hippie lover.
seriously, though, this was sweet. sweet like oatmeal cookies, not sweet like something that makes your teeth hurt.
I’m basically a She-wannabe. I have certain characteristics of them, but others that basically guarantee I will never be a genuine one. They are the girls that I find most appealing and most threatening-- I have never had anxiety or jealousness about the kind of girls that usually inspire anxiety or jealousness, only about the ones who have no idea they’re doing it.
I haven’t seen a She since high school, when I lived with 2 of them (I went to boarding school). They’re present in the southern part of Manhattan, not so much in the Midtown grid where I live. In my law firm I see girls who I suspect are closet Shes, under their yuppie suits.
Not this will mean much to you, but I read your entries regularly and I enjoy it greatly. In fact, I really like the new site. However, I am a huge “font snob” and I think you should consider changing your heading font.
I would like to be more She-like, but alas, i am not. i am not a small talker, but also not artsy in any way. cheeseburgers are A-okay with this kid! and i agree with CW. you are perfect the way you are greg howard! any She would be a fool(!) not to like you as is.
Speaking as someone who is not even remotely a She (I don’t even know any Shes, though I have veggie friends, they are more techno/goth or hipster or—in my sister’s case, Ted Nugent) I would like to extend to you an invitation to dine on bacon cheeseburgers and talk trivial bullshit about the chronology of the Indiana Jones movies. Allow me to be the acerbic sorbet to your turquoise-clad hippie chicks.
My assistant, two days a week, is a She named Rain. She wears blonde baby-dreads and makes her own notebooks from scratch. She sings to herself at her desk and brings me strange, sumptious treats. I’d fire myself before I let them make me fire her.
And Greg,there is something oddly more revealing about this post than any of those, which preceeded it. I like that, muchly.
I went to college (Humboldt State University - since you’re from NoCal, perhaps you know of what I speak?) with a bunch of crunchy types like that. We called them “Humboldt Honeys”. Though they tended to be rather unwashed they were definitely into CAUSES and veganism and having deep conversations. I was sort of a jocky nerd and alas! did not fit in. I’m about as far from a SHE as it gets, but now that I’m older I really don’t care.
I definitely agree with the above posts… a sense of humor is essential no matter who you are.
Nice post. By the way, sorry for not commenting earlier Greg, but I was busy profiting from the exploitation of innocent baby animals and crushing dissent under my career-woman stiletto heels. My bad.