>>> The Hard Way
By staff writer Mike Faerber
December 21, 2005
So you’re a guy. Congrats. You’ve made it past the first stage of discrimination in life. Sure equality of the sexes would be nice, but for now you might as well soak up the benefits of our oppressive hegemony. Here’s a nice trick, name your balls Thelma and Louise. You’re a man! You can do that.
As a male, you might think you have it made. Your genitalia does not fold into itself like some kind of orgasm parachute. The less effort you put into your looks, the more attractive you become. And lastly, women can’t put down other women by calling them a man. You like bruises and brawling and boobs and babes and brewskies and big brawny paper towels and booties and breaking shit and being erect in front of a mirror.
But is there a downside to all this testosterone? Why is it not okay for us to cry? Why do our muscled arms not hold children as tenderly? Do I have to like football? How late is Burger King open? Is that girl checking me out? Hey, what’s your number? Where are you going? Why can’t I just talk to you? Was she a dyke or what? Is The Man Show tongue-in-cheekly mocking me? I’m not just some stupid brute. I can be pretty tongue-in-cheek myself.
Especially with the ladies.
But here’s where it all went wrong.
Dating is for Calendars
The biggest perk about being male.
If you show me an organized system for sifting through members of the opposite sex, complete with labeled stages and levels of intimacy, then I’ll show you its creator: a woman. And then I’ll show you her breasts, by lifting up her shirt from behind. The only thing redder than her nips will be the embarrassed rage on her face. I’ll then try to show her that I’m sorry, and also try to show her the shower. Ultimately I’ll fail, because I’m a man and we do things like that all the time. And high five about it.
Don’t be a fool. Dating is definitely a man-trap. We’re not suited for it. And it’s obvious when you show up late for dinner on her birthday wearing a t-shirt and jeans…women’s jeans…from the girl you just cheated with. Also known as her best friend. When your girl asks about them you can totally deny it though, because the truth is you tried to cheat but got shot down. The bottom line is you’re a male, and nature has hardwired you to get your impregnate on. This would be fine if you also hadn’t developed a conscience and higher cognitive abilities that necessitate actual relationships with fellow human beings. Basically the male condition is a set of conflicting desires that prevent any sort of true happiness…except in the small doses of violence/nudity we see in movies.
Breast explosion? I’m still waiting, Science.
Hey, remember this patriarchal society that prevents women from getting as good of a job as men? Yes I do, but I forget why they’re complaining. I’m pretty sure men would gladly take a break and let the ladies take over. God forbid we get to stay at home all day while you buy us nice things. Okay sure, women should be allowed to enter the workforce, but the fact that there’s no pressure on them means they are pretty much pursuing something that really interests them. Guys only work because they are interested in not starving…and women.
Men are supposed to be successful, supposed to trudge through the 9-5 to provide for their families. What about the young businessman who wears a leotard under his suit because he secretly wants to be a ballerina? Well the truth is he’s gay and won’t have a family to provide for, but I’m sure there are others just like him. And yes that’s an unfair judgment to make, but not everyone gets into law school. Ever played “Life”? All I’m saying is, every guy has had a job he hated. There are some women out there who will never even have a job.
Also there are guys who can’t get a good job because women hate them.
One of the greatest things about the human race is that we are all different and unique in our own right. One of the worst things is that different and unique roughly translates to “fag.” Women thus aren’t afraid to be different because you’d have to call them a “lesbo” for it to mean anything…and they already do all that with their girlfriends anyway. It’s called “the hottest scene in any teen comedy.” On the other hand, if I write a good poem that’s not about how my dad took me out to the ballpark as a kid, I’m immediately a queer-o. So there you are enjoying something other than sports, when Big Bully Brad comes up and calls you a pansy while hanging you up by your underwear. Brad is such an asshole. You never should have had a crush on him…or worn that lacy thong.
So what if you’re not the poster child for Balls and Brawn Monthly. You shouldn’t be scared into being something you’re not. Stand up for what you love. The stereotype can easily be reversed. Start pointing out that gay guys like hanging out with girls. If you like girls, then you’re a sissy. Only guys who are around other guys are cool. Then sleep with them and take pictures. Trust me, it’ll bother them more than it will you. And who knows, maybe you can blackmail him into being your best friend.
I wouldn’t though. That guy’s a fag.
Guy: Look at this geeky internet kid, what a gay!
Mikey: Where’s a gay?
Guy: You are, man.
Mikey: Why are you talking to a gay?
Guy: What? No. Wait.
Mikey: Somebody get this gay-lover away from me.
Guy: No dude, you’re the gay.
Mikey: I’d kick his ass, but I don’t want to catch any gay from him.