I have never had a close male friend. You know, one I would call up to hang out with or cry my eyes out to, or crash on his couch overnight. In fact, since I was very young my friends have been almost entirely female.
Not to say I didn't play with boys. My brother is just shy of two years younger than me. So I often played with his friends when they were around, just like--for a time--he often played with mine. Still, they were my brother's friends first.
For most of my childhood our games were a melding of "boy" and "girl" pastimes. Dolls, of course, were far too feminine a pursuit so my brother and I played "house" with stuffed animals instead. I could be convinced, rather easily, to play with cars and trucks. In fact, I preferred the boy happy meals at McDonald's over the girl toys available. As we aged, I can recall reading my brother his comic books--most distinctly, the *gasp* death of Superman!
I even went through a brief wrestling addiction. Go, Hulk Hogan!
At one point we lived in an apartment house filled with children. I ran with packs of neighborhood boys along with my brother. We played manhunt in the woods with plastic guns. So to say I have been a "girly-girl" is grossly inaccurate.
I never wore makeup and rarely a dress or heels. I didn't care very much for my appearance or pop culture. I had little interest in boys and no experiences with dating. My husband, still to this day, calls me a tomboy.
Regaurdless of this, I never have had a close male friend until my husband. I strongly prefer the company of women, feel most comfortable with women, and most "at home" with women. Whenever I am in a group of women, I feel like that is how life is supposed to be. That we are supposed to be together raising our children in an estrogen crazed herd of females.
There was a point in college when I was so sick of living with females and dealing with our passive aggressive, moody emotions that I told a friend of mine I think I preferred the company of men. Men were simple. Men were upfront. Men made sense. She scoffed at me and told me I had to "grow up some to realize that what I said wasn't true. (about myself, not about men)" She was right. I did. I grew up and realized that though women are frustrating and confusing and say one thing but mean another, feel one thing and the opposite all at one time, love you to pieces and want to beat you to death--that they are ultimately more fulfilling in the long run.
Women are about connections, forming knots between each other, sharing experiences, finding common ground, sharing, giving, bonding. It almost feels like women are more capable of deep and lasting love. I trust women to "give a shit"--sincerely.
Generally, with men, I feel like relationships glide on the surface--jokes, bantering, mockery, action. I am an emotional person. I want more from people. I want to dig into their brains and figure out how they work. Most guys don't seem to care for late night confessions, for swapping stories over a tub of ice cream, for soothing each other.
In my one, lone feminist college course we discussed how women and men have different ways of conversing. That, historically, a female style of conversation has been dismissed as inferior. (This class made me hate men for awhile, no lie.)
Let's just say, while I can understand the male language, I function far better speaking to a woman in our way. This includes things like offering instead of sharing a want so the other person feels included, asking questions to make sure the other person had their chance to share, connecting the other person's stories into my own experiences so she sees we have common ground and I can understand, or interjecting agreement noises into conversations to let her know I am listening. Women do not speak competitively. In fact, I am always insulted when a man replies with some flippant comment to something I feel strongly about. My husband is a master of this (I have since learned not to take things so personally).
You see, generally, males are taught to dominate conversation. Females have been taught to open conversation--to take a more passive role. Let's just say I've mastered the female conversation style.
Now, I'm not trying to offend any men out there. I share my life with a wonderful man and I've met a few others here and there that I've clicked with. If I talk to you and you are a man, you must be a special one!
If I had a best male friend, it would have to be the unique snowflake that is my best friend's partner, Trodayne. I adore Trodayne. He's one of the few, the very rare, men out there that I feel close to.
I have a theory that men who prefer female friends/females that prefer male friends are more gender natural. That they are people who share more aspects of the opposite sex in the way they think and function.
I'm just not one of those people.
So though I might be a stranger to high heels, eye shadow, hair dryers, and leopard print underwear--I have a distinctly female brain. Femininity is more than skin deep. Gender is more than black and white.
What sex do you prefer to befriend?
to this! (How are they almost two? Please explain.)
I forgot he had no eyebrows then and such red hair!
I'm really looking foward to experiencing all these early moments again. Not because River isn't enough, but because he is so wonderful, such a blessing, that I want to add still more wonder to our family. 
feeding the sheep that were hand raised by Dawn
four pigs in a row
baby bunny
alpachas!
River befriends Ollie the farm kitty
We spent most of our time with our friends in Maryland (the town, not the state). Ginny and I were pregnant together and gave birth three days apart. J and River have been together since a very young age. Maybe it is this or the close birthdays, but even with months of seperation there is no child River plays with as well as J. With most children he plays by them, but J and River interact constantly. It was the sweetest thing to hear them calling each other's names.
I'm happy with our move to Baltimore where their is far more opportunites, culture, and sunshine! Still, there are so many people I care for in Oneonta. It was so wonderful to see them again. To have conversations with other mothers, to see how their children have grown, to welcome new babies and bellies. 
From years ago, when I visited her is Arizona. She had since regained her sanity and moved back from the wastelands.
