Sometimes people assumed we were lesbians. They saw the plaid kilts and hordes of girls walking around Walnut Street arm in arm, and they were certain they knew what was up.

Whatever.

The fact is, 13 years of all-girls education does make you appreciate being a woman.

I went to The Ellis School in Shadyside from kindergarten through 12th grade, graduating in 2007. The dynamic is unlike anything I've encountered before or since, which includes working at nonprofits where women are highly active.

Anna Kasicky, a friend who went through Ellis with me, said we should have graduated with a degree in women's studies. College classes in the field sounded just like high school, except in high school women's studies wasn't a class. You lived it around the clock.

In just about every exam, you could expect the women question. It was usually some variation on "how did female characters affect Western literature?" When we sat down to take the Advanced Placement U.S. history exam, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. A prompt on the role of women? Been there, done that.

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We often joked that the only boys we interacted with were brothers. No wonder we loved them so much.

When guys came to Ellis events, they were welcomed nonchalantly as just part of the crowd. But we always knew they were there. We'd be sure to make ourselves look respectable.

You heard stories of girls coming to school in the same couple of shirts for the entire year and refusing to shave because it was too much work. No boys around, so why bother? Makeup was irrelevant for many girls, and you always knew that new blood had arrived when you saw a girl carrying a purse. There seemed to be an unofficial rule about not looking too girlie.

We joked that we only pretended to be normal once school let out. During the school day, girls would pants each other in the middle of the hallway. We'd sit in each other's laps without thinking twice about it, and a warm greeting always included a hug.

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Facebook stalking became a hobby in high school. It was a lifeline to the outside world, even if that world was only real in cyberspace. Girls joked that they got to know guys' Facebook profiles better than the guys they met in real life. Facebook pictures revealed insights into guys' characters, whereas guys on the Ellis social scene usually were there just to have a good time.

Mixed-gender social events at least kept us on our feet. We'd often have sleepovers and watch movies until we were too tired to keep our eyes open.

I remember hearing about gatherings at the Meadows in Frick Park and laughing at the contrast. Kids would go there late at night for "real" high school parties. When the police showed up, marching up the path toward the party on the hill, the kids retreated into the woods, searching for the trails with only the light of their cell phones to guide them.

When prom came around, some girls would fly guys in for the special night. We never reached a consensus about why. Was it desperation, or high standards? We joked that it came down to too much stress about an event that had to make up for years of deprivation.

There certainly was a lack of testosterone at Ellis. Girls created MySpace pages praising male teachers to the skies. The blogs were highly amusing, and girls could quote them from memory.

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People always told me that I'd be prepared for college coming from a good prep school like Ellis. I remember talking to my friend Ang Li, who graduated and went to Harvard. I joked that she probably got stone drunk every night, and she laughed. She said she had some pretty good times with her roommate, but that she wasn't partying all the time.

Ang's roommate would report back home regularly. She told her parents that she and her friends would sing Disney songs and make cupcakes and go for long walks along the Charles River. Her parents played along, but eventually became incredulous. Finally they said, that's sweet, but we want the truth.I have to admit that I was disbelieving, too. But it was the truth.

When I went to college, I realized that despite its quirks, Ellis was an ideal world. The teachers went above and beyond the call of duty to make the school close-knit.

I remember taking part in a Japanese tea ceremony in Mellon Park, writing haikus and drinking tea out of raku cups we'd just retrieved from the kiln. We spent weeks preparing in anthropology for a Kwakuitl potlatch, an indigenous festival complete with totem poles, masks, dances and big men talking each other down. Then there were the spontaneous dance parties in the senior lounge at 3 p.m.

In college, we'd reminisce about high school, about the good old days. I'd tell my college friends about Ellis, and they would always say it sounded too good to be true. Looking back, I'd have to agree.