Growing up, I didn’t know boys. My family was made up of girls – my Mom and three sisters. The lone male of the household, Dad, moved out when I was 14. As a young girl, I thought boys were immature and rude. They laughed at things that weren’t funny, like farts and boogers. Boys wrecked stuff. I hated when mothers brought their sons over to our house to play. They pulled off my dolls’ legs and poked pins in their plastic belly buttons. They were violent, running amok, using their fingers as guns, “pow-pow, pow-pow-pow.” They’d keel over dead for a few moments only to jump back to life…