Dad, do men gossip?

No my son, we do not.

Men discuss theories that involve other human beings amongst each other.  We discuss how they impact on our daily lives. We challenge our own paradigms by debating the best and worst characteristics of other people in order to never evolve into some of the deuchebags we know.  We talk to prevent ourselves from becoming lesser men.

Normally these thought provoking exchanges occur in the absence of woman during sessions where liquor is consumed.  These discussions are very particularly gender based as we would discuss men we hate and woman we love.

Whenever a group of men get together they normally go through the normal routine of discussing sport, cars and work.  Once enough beer has flown… Wait. Stop.

“What is enough beer, you ask?” Well my son, that is one of the secrets of the cosmos.  Right up there with “Are we alone in this universe?” or “Will we ever fully understand woman?”  Come to think of it, the first question might still have an answer.  But what I can say is that you will know, whenever you reach that point, you will instinctively know.

Some signs might include slouching, slurring and loudness.  Ties will hang loose and shirts untucked.  The ashtray will be overflowing with buds of various shapes and sizes even though no one in the group is a compulsive smoker.  The peanut bowl will be empty, even though no one dared touching that pile of germ infested proteine during the start of the evening.  And there will be an array of bottles and glasses, tall and small, because the waitress got sick of walking up and down. 

When you reach that point then guys will start to reminisce about people.  No, not gossip.  Discuss…

Guy 1 will start yapping about this other guy he knows, (no names ever) and how he pisses him off.  How guy 1 just want to walk up to him and punch him in the face till it bleeds.  Just call him out for the asswipe that he is.  Mentioning that this idiot doesn’t really do anything specifically annoying, it’s just he has this kind of face you know?

And everyone will agree how much of a dickhead he is.

Then guy 2 will relate a story of Mr Think-I’m-better -than-anyone-else who is a coworker, but never greets him.  Not once and they have been working together for more than three years.  How is that possible?  How can one person be so consumed with himself that he doesn’t consider it important enough for common decency to exist.  Probably because the broomstick shuffed up his ass is so deep that it doesn’t allow enough movement in his neck and this deficiency causes him to always have his nose in the air.

And everyone will agree how much of a dickhead he is.

Guy 3 will continue the story and relate to the fact that he knows a guy who is such a full scale prick, that he doesn’t even allow his kids to play with other kids if they don’t live in a certain neighbourhood.  And that is just really fucked up and…  (Guy 3 couldn’t complete the story as he just tripped getting up, waiving his pointed finger way to excitedly, emphasising his point.  And in the process spilling half his drink on guy 1)

But everyone will agree how much of a dickhead he is.

And then it will happen.  There will be a moment of silence.  Some quick exchanges, some clarity behind hazy eyes, a smile and then a full cacophony of laughter when everyone realise that the three stories is about the same guy.  And no one started their story with “Did you hear about…”  That is why it’s not gossip.

The moral is that most guys are simple minded.  We are very easy to please.  We cannot multitask.  We embrace that, it’s not an acknowledgement of a weakness, it’s proven fact.  It doesn’t imply that we think that we are the weaker sex, it just explains why we like or dislike people.  It’s a few simple rules.

Don’t be an ass.  Don’t be a prick.  Don’t be a smart mouth. Don’t be a dickhead.  Don’t be a deuchebag.

Got it?

Oh and don’t beat up on woman and children and love you wife and take care of your children.  Respect bro.

For woman it is even easier to be liked by men.  Just don’t be a bitch.


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