dear charlie: a letter from the girls.

Well. These next few posts are so girly that you wouldn't believe it. When I told my big brother the plans for this three post series, he told me how girly my blog is. Which is not necessarily true. Usually we don't talk about girly things. This week is a complete, total exception.

I leave for Puerto Rico today, and while I'm gone, I have a few posts dealing with a big, important issue.

British or American boys?

Let's call him Sam. I was eight, living in England. Our neighborhood was wild and amazing. My family, the only white people. An Asian family next door. Everyone else, Pakistani. Down and across the street was St. Margarete's, a Church of England church.

Sam was the vicar's son.

Actually, Sam was the bobby, but for the purpose of this story, we're gonna call the vicar's son Sam and forget about the bobby. I don't remember vicar's-son-Sam's real name, so this will have to do.

I liked Sam for all of the eight months we lived there. If I remember correctly, he was my brother's age. Dark hair. Big smile. And...that's about all I remember. But I liked him.

The only other British boy I remember was Nicolas. He was younger than me. My best British friend's little brother. That's about it.

(Tangent: when we moved to England I was terrified that I wouldn't have any friends. I mean, really, we beat the British in the Revolutionary War. All the British girls would hate me.)

(That's not what happened, by the way. I had many very good British, not to mention Pakistani, friends while I lived there.)

British boys in the media...well, that's a different story. Mr. Darcy? Gilbert Blythe- who technically isn't British, but almost? Edmund Pevensie? Peter Pan?

All perfect. 

And then there are American boys.

They are basically amazing, for the most part. I have so many guy friends who are fantastic, amazing people. I made several really good (American) guy friends this summer.

I like most of the American boys I know. I have several really good American guy friends. Then there's the stereotype of a British boy. Compared to that of an American boy, the American doesn't stand a chance. 

Most American girls who think that they would love to find an amazing British guy probably don't know any British people.

I think that it's all about the stereotype. American boys, break the stereotype. We know you're not always sloppy and lazy. Show us. British boys, well, take advantage of the stereotype. Be a gentleman. Be kind and considerate.

The main difference: the accent. Oh, the accent. That, dear American males, is why every girl wishes she knew a British boy. Or, I suppose, there's my brother, who mastered the British/Pakistani British accent while we lived in Europe.

Your thoughts? Later this week there will be posts by a British girl and an American girl sharing what they think.