let's hear it for the boys.

My first few weeks away at Faulkner, I had my parents worried. Really, really worried.

Every time I would call home, I’d list the names of people I’d been hanging out with, what I’d been doing, where I’d been going, and during almost every phone call, I was greeted with tense silence and awkward coughs.

Because the majority of my friends at Faulkner were boys.

Let me explain that I didn’t date these guys (well except for one, who I eventually married). They were just my friends, people I could watch football games with, go eat wings with, and engage in some philosophical discussion with.

I blame my brother.

See, if there’s anything I’m good at, I think it’s at being a sister. (Excluding that one scratching incident. I think he still has scars. Whoops.)

When I moved away to Montgomery, I missed my brother. So I surrounded myself with pseudo-brothers. Certainly not brother replacements. No way. Just boys who needed a sister in their lives, someone to cook them food, teach them how to do their laundry, make them birthday cards… Kind of like Wendy in Peter Pan or Rose in Eight Cousins.

On more than one occasion, I was publicly mistaken for at least three different boys’ sister (including, sadly, my now husband). For the most part, though, I didn’t mind. It’s a role I fill nicely.

So this weekend, when two of our friends came to town for Jordan’s graduation, I was thrilled.

I just like boys.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve made some of the best girl friends a girl could ask for. But there’s just something about the low-maintenance, drama-free nature of boys.

This weekend, these guys came into our home, paid more compliments than most girls ever think to give, ate leftovers, drank Cokes, and never once complained.

They watched Dateline, played video games, and helped me move furniture.

They didn’t want to gossip, thought the party was awesome, and were so proud of Jordan.

They weren’t jealous, insecure, or unintentionally cruel.

They sat with me at graduation, sang the praises of my dad’s cooking, and told hilarious (sometimes inappropriate) jokes.

They took away the tension, were comfortable in my home, didn’t need to be entertained, and reminded me and Jordan just why we’re friends with them in the first place.

And each night as I got ready for bed, I listened to the deep voices coming from downstairs, and I loved it.

Loved that I had extra people to love and care for, loved that our friends thought enough of us to travel from miles away for a visit, and loved that they were perfectly content just to visit and watch TV.

The truth is, we girls could learn a lot from the men in our lives. From how they interact with one another to the way they let things slide without another thought.

I think that’s what I saw this weekend. Sometimes — despite the stereotype (you know, burping, smelly, misogynistic) — boys just know best.