The day takes a strange 180

It’s amazing how everything can go from awesome to complete shit in no time flat.

I had a great weekend.  Top notch.  Definitely worth the price of admission.  I came home from being away, all was quiet, and my presence was not requested, so I decided to go do something productive and hit the gym.  I got finished with my workout, and I was on a high.  A HIGH, I tell you.  Endorphins are wonderful things.

As I was getting ready to leave, a small, pasty, bird chested kid came into the gym.  He didn’t look much over 12, but I later came to find out he was a senior in high school and had just turned 17.  I mentioned he was small and pasty, right?  He came in, and the guy did everything WRONG.  His form was terrible, and he was trying to lift WAY too much.  I was watching this, and as much as I wanted to try to help him get it right, I couldn’t.  I didn’t want to be the know it all asshole in the gym who had to get in everybody’s business.  If somebody asks, I’ll tell them how *I do it, but I generally try to keep to myself.

I grabbed my keys and started to head for the door.

There’s a guy that I see in the gym from time to time.  He’s big.  Bigger than I am.  He also looks like a douchebag.  I don’t know how to quantify it, but I make it a point to avoid him.  Anybody who sneers all the way through their workout is by default a suspect character.

Anyway, this guy starts picking on the small pasty kid.  It started with a loud, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”  He then questioned this kid’s manhood.  Told him that there was no way he’d ever manage to snag a girlfriend, but that was OK, because he was likely to meet some nice guy he could hook up with anyway.  And the kid, what did he say?  Not a thing.  He sat staring at the floor and wouldn’t make eye contact.

That’s the problem with being weak and small.  Anybody bigger than you is intimidating.  I can recall back in the day that I used to be that kid.  I still want to take a baseball bat to the knees of the shithead I had to deal with, and that was almost 30 years ago.  Mind you, I won’t, because that would be *WRONG.

Now having said that, I’ll say this.  A BULLY IS LOWER THAN WHALE SHIT.  I’ve got no use for them.  I’m not sure what makes somebody decide that since they’re bigger and stronger than someone else, that they feel that abusing somebody smaller is a good thing.

I walked over and asked the guy, “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?”

Now, even before this, I suspected that the guy was an asshole, so the, “Mind your own fucking business,” didn’t really come as a surprise.  It escalated from there.

Thankfully, there never was a threat of violence on either side, and it never came to blows.  I’m not the most pleasant looking person, so I think that might have been a factor.  I did find out, however, that the guy is a cop in the small town I live in.  So it turns out, this particular bully carries a badge and picks on people weaker than him.  I’m pretty sure that when I asked him if that’s what his idea of protecting and serving was that he *may have made some decisions about me in his mind.  Any time now I am expecting some sort of hassle from the whole thing.  Time will tell.

So the guy finally stormed off.  Everybody in the gym finally stopped looking at the two of us and went back to what they were doing.  I asked the kid if he needed any pointers, and he asked questions.  I spent about 20 minutes with him talking about how to properly exercise so that he gets results, and how to work on his diet.  I got the feeling that he was trying to strengthen up to deal with the idiots in  his school.  Whatever, anything to help.  And, AND, more power to him.

So it got me thinking.  This world is full of strong people and weak people.  Some people have advantages other people don’t.  Talent is talent.  Do we have any responsibility for what we do with our strengths?

You’re goddamned right we do.  I think that a man’s highest calling is that he use his strengths, whatever they may be, for the good of those who can’t.

If you’re big and strong, and you see somebody smaller and weaker who needs your help, you GIVE IT.  Period.  Plain and simple.  You’re big and strong for a reason, and it’s not really for you.

Every bully out there probably can’t remember the names or faces of his or her (yes, her…) victims.  I can guarantee that his or her victims still remember the bully’s name.  Sobering thought.

As of this writing, I have no idea what the final outcome of this will be.  I hope the small kid gets himself right and gets some respect.  I hope that the bully cop has some sort of a “Come to Jesus” moment and changes his ways.  And, AND I really hope I don’t end up with a squad car following me around wherever I go.

I’ll just end this with the following statement:  A MAN does what’s right.  A MAN doesn’t abuse those weaker than him.  That includes his classmates.  That includes his coworkers.  That includes his wife and kids.  A MAN uses his strengths, talents, and gifts to the benefit of those who lack what he has.  Oh yeah, and a MAN does his best to NOT be a douchebag.


Combatting Douchebaggery, Part 1

Every once in a while, I get to see how I was a douchebag.  Granted, if I’m lucky it’s way way back in my past, but nevertheless, I have been guilty.

What’s really interesting though is when i get to see how it all went down from the angle of somebody on the receiving end of the very douchebaggery that I was in fact guilty of.

To wit: I have a close friend who was crazy insane about this guy she met on the interwebs.  They talked. They laughed.  They spent TIME.  By some miracle of modern transportation and scheduling, there was even an in person visit which consisted of a weekend of sheer, unadulterated (well, probably adulterated…) bliss.  All was well with the world.  During this time, I really didn’t speak to her much because, well, new man, and that’s the way it should be.

And…then….nothing.  Squat.  Communication dried up from him.

I heard back from her a few weeks after the visit.

So apparently the guy went headcase on her.  She started getting the whole “I just don’t know what I want” thing from him, and then contact became less and less frequent.  I hear there was an ex girlfriend involved somehow.  Regardless of all that, he hemmed and hawed for weeks/months.

This whole time, she held out hope that he would finally get his shit straight and MAKE A DECISION.  Eventually shit fell through, and plans that were made never came to fruition.

Here we are, almost three months after the beginning of the weird meltdown and she’s been strung along this whole time on hopes that something good would come out of it.  Now, I’m not sure, but I’d be willing to wager a dollar that there’s a fair amount of resentment that’s been built up by now.

So how did this affect her?  Well, obviously she’s pissed.  As a man, the last thing you want to be is the object of an angry woman’s active and incendiary scorn.  That’s the kind of thing that can get you a well aimed brick to the face.  Further, she was in a state of mental anguish over the whole thing.  Apparently the word FUTURE was mentioned with regard to their relationship.  I understand the “L” word was also spoken.  From all indications, women don’t take that lightly.  And neither should you, men, if you plan on bandying those terms about haphazardly.  You might as well try to juggle dynamite.

Now, I don’t know what the guy’s deal is.  Maybe he’s a basket case.  Maybe he really is in mental anguish because he feels too deeply that it scares him.  Or maybe he’s just a douchebag that enjoys toying with women’s emotions.  Having only heard one side of the story, I don’t know.  Also having only one side of the story, my initial reaction to the whole tortured soul thing is that he should grow a pair and make up his mind.  But again, that’s not fair of me to say because I don’t have ALL the facts.

So rather than condemn him for being a douchebag, I’ll talk about how we can all avoid the possibility of even being perceived as this particular kind of douchebag.

Specifically, it all comes down to this: SAY WHAT YOU MEAN, AND MEAN WHAT YOU SAY.  If you’re into the girl, tell her.  She’ll appreciate it.  Believe you me, she’ll tell you if she’s not into you.  Nobody likes to be strung along.  Nobody likes to be kept wondering.  If you’re NOT into the girl, tell her that too.  She may resent you for it.  She may throw things.  She may tell all her friends, and they’ll call you names, tell their friends, and so on.  All those things could happen, sure, but in the end, eventually, she’ll appreciate it that you were UP FRONT with her and didn’t string her along.  One day, after you’ve come and gone, when she finds THE ONE, she’ll look back on you as the guy who cut her loose so that she could be happy with who she was supposed to be happy with.  It’s a better way to avoid that whole brick to the face thing.  And the slashed tires.  And the 2×4 through the windshield.

If only…

Years from now
you will be more disappointed
by the things you did NOT do…
than by the ones you DID do.

So – throw off the bow lines!
Sail away from the safe harbor.
Catch the tradewinds in your sails.

~ Mark Twain

The problem with hindsight being 20/20 is that your mistakes are glaringly obvious.  Recently I had occasion to take a good, hard look at the last 20 or so years.  While I’ve had some great successes, the things I missed out on and the chances I didn’t take sting like a motherfucker.

So why am I talking about this?  Why is this on a blog about being a man?  Why?  Because a man takes chances.  Without taking a chance, nothing great would ever have happened.  A man hears, “But you might fail miserably,” and says, “Fuck it.  I’ll try anyway.”  Without that attitude, your favorite band would not exist.  That movie you like?  Nobody would have had the balls to make it.  Like your car?  The guy who started that car company was told it would never work but doubters.  I GUARANTEE that.  Shit, we went to the moon.  THE MOON.  And THAT was before we even had a pocket calculator because somebody had the balls to say, “Let’s do it.”  Chance can lead to amazing things.

Now, NOT taking a chance?  That…THAT can lead to regret.  Regret, well, that’s a bitch.  A vicious, dirty bitch.

I ended up on a 4 hour car ride the other day, and as an experiment, I played the soundtrack to my life from high school to now.  They say that memories can come back to you from songs.  So I played those songs, everything from the middle 80s til today in sequential order.  I noticed that one thought just kept coming to mind over and over.


So in my case, I was reminded of chances not taken.  Up until around the mid 90s, I had what you would call a major self esteem problem. I thought back, and I realized that all through growing up, I NEVER EVEN ASKED ANYBODY OUT because I was afraid to.  I’d see The Girl.  In my head, I’d go HEAD OVER HEELS.  And then I’d do…nothing.  In my head, I’d talk myself out of that shit.  That kind of thing destroyed almost every relationship I ever had.  If I got jealous or thought things weren’t going well, I wouldn’t communicate (pay attention to that one, men, they like you to communicate).  Instead, I would emotionally shut down.  I’d go cold.  I’d duck calls because I didn’t want to deal with the break up.  And that led to…the break up.  

And I knew this about myself, and I knew it was a problem.  That even kept me from STARTING a relationship on many occasions.  I’ve got a lot of regrets in that area as well.  There is a long list, starting in…oh…7th grade or so, of those of the fairer sex that I was attracted to that I wouldn’t approach because I was sure I was going to fuck it up or get rejected outright.  I had one come to mind that I was CRAZY ABOUT.  Think CRAZY INSANE like in Weird Science.  This one once actually came up to me and told me point blank that she thought I was attractive.  I believe those were her words.  And I said…nothing.  Not a thing.  I even acted like I didn’t hear it.  I get the feeling that it might have even pissed her off, my silence.  And the reason?  I was scared to death to give it a try, because I couldn’t bear the thought of fucking it all up. She never had a clue as to how I felt.  I never took the chance.  As a result, what may have been the love of my life never was.  Love of my life?  Well, I’ll never know.

Once, I even got a job offer in Australia that I didn’t take because I was afraid to make the leap and take the chance.

Eventually, years later, I got over that, but before that, I missed a lot of chances.  Derp.

Along the same lines, if you want something, and you want it with all your heart, go for it.  Don’t let anybody talk you out of what you want.  Don’t let anybody tell you that you’re going to fail.  If it’s important enough, you’ll find a way.  I’ll go even further and say don’t ever listen to anybody about how you will succeed or fail who has never even tried, never succeeded.  Isn’t it funny, for instance, that people who have no money are the first ones to try to tell you what to do with yours?

Men, sometimes you’re going to want to take a chance, and you won’t.  You’ll want it.  You’ll REALLY want it, but something in your mind will get in the way.  My advice there is figure out what it is getting in the way and DEAL WITH IT.  Afraid to ask a girl to dance because you can’t dance?  Learn to dance.  Afraid to go for the promotion at work because you don’t think you’re good enough?  Find a way to become the best person in your job, and then demand what you’ve worked for.

Greatness comes from taking chances.  Men, take chances.  Live dreams.  Make a difference.  Make life what you want it to be, because you’ve got it in you to do whatever you want, to have whatever you want, and to accomplish whatever you want.

I’ll end with a quote from Mike Muir and Suicidal Tendencies:

Oh, what’s that?
So now you say life sucks
Well, ninety-nine percent of it’s
What you make of it…
So if your life sucks, you suck

What’s that crap you’re smoking, playing the fool
Waste your life for nothing, when you’re something
What the hell you thinking, mind pollution
Got to get back control, it’s your life fool


What’s all this then?

So I got a request by one person for a new post here.  The. Pressure. Is. On.

I have a myriad of topics I want to cover here, and no, no, they’re not all going to be sexual in nature.  Rather, they’re going to be dedicated to a specific theme.  Will sex be covered?  YES, OF COURSE.  Violence?  Yup.  Relationships?  You betcha.  Etiquette?  Absolutely.  Societal issues?  Without a doubt!

The whole purpose of this thing, whatever it becomes, is to talk about men’s issues.  I’m not talking about the stuff in magazines.  I’m going to avoid all the crap on TV.  No, I’m coming at this from the angle of, “What would my grandfather and/or John Wayne say about this?”

I see a problem that I touched on in the last post.  Specifically, there are too few actual Men out there.  This


does not happen in a vacuum.  This happens because they, whoever they are (hippies?), are doing their best to take what makes us men away from us.  It starts early.  Look around.  When was the last time anybody saw some kids building a ramp out of a 2×4 and a cinder block with grand designs on an epic bike stunt?  I believe that particular event last happened some time around 1992, and more’s the pity.

“But, but, little Billy could get hurt!”

Yup, and from that, Billy gets to toughen up and learn all about cause and effect, and that actions have consequences.  Oh yeah, and that we’re all personally responsible for what actually happens to us.

Or worse, there’s the rampant douchebaggery going on.  I see it every day, in how we treat others (friends, wives, girlfriends, our kids, coworkers…)  I see it in how we approach responsibility.  I see it with how in stead of men capable of doing great things, we’ve got a generation of entitled brats who play the constant victim and will likely never be worth the dynamite that it would take to blow them straight to Hell (Thanks for that one, too, grandad!)

So…I’m here to help.  Well, try at least.  What makes me qualified to help?  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Other than I had a kick ass grandfather who taught me to keep my eyes open and try to see things for what they are, as well as a series of good role models, both men and women.

So I’m going to try to take what I learned from him, and other real men over the years, and apply it to what I see, and then document it here.

This is about taking ownership of the problem and making positive changes to rectify all the bullshit we’re confronted with because of how we’ve let ourselves be neutered.

More later…

The Pants Rule.

Okay, so I was struggling as to where to begin, so I’ll start at the most logical place.  The important stuff.

I’ve noticed through my travels that we have an epidemic in this country.  Hell, it could be world wide, I just don’t know.  The thing is, we have an overabundance of unsatisfied women.

The problem, friends and acquaintances, is sexual.  I’m basing this on conversations I’ve had with friends near and dear, the media, any given sitcom, and conversations overheard throughout my travels.  Women are complaining.  COMPLAINING! When the bad sex jokes hit the sitcoms, you know, YOU KNOW it’s serious.  And it’s not your fault…ladies.

Now, I did not come to that conclusion lightly.  I’ve put the time in.  I’ve thought about it.  I’ve weighed the evidence.  I’ve asked the tough questions.  And through it all, I’ve found a common theme.  Men, you aren’t getting the job done.  Apparently, from what I’ve gathered, men, you are able to get them close to orgasm, but not quite there.  And worst of all, they won’t tell you.  Oh no.  Men, you’ll finish up (because let’s face it, we’re like bottle rockets, ssshhhhffffwwwww *pop*, and the fun is over…) and think you did everything right.  I’m telling you, men, nothing could be further from the truth.  The only equivalency would be making it to the parking lot of the Superbowl and not being allowed in the gate, but even that pales in comparison to The Orgasm That Never Was.

Case in point, after doing a quick search on the interwebs, I ran across this headline: “Vibrator Sales are Doing Great Despite a Slow Economy”.

This shit doesn’t happen in a vacuum.  There is a reason for this.  I haven’t looked, but I suspect that Duracell is also thriving for the very same reason.  Based on all this information, I think I know the root of the problem.

Somehow, men, we’ve become selfish.  I’m looking at YOU, Mr. Two Pump Chump.  And don’t think I can’t see you there, Mr. “She’s sweaty and breathing heavy, so it must have been good”.  It wasn’t.  I’m telling you, if she can still walk a straight line and remember her name when you’re finished, you’ve failed.

But, BUT, I have a solution.  I call it “The Pants Rule”.  Let me explain.

Years ago, I too had trouble keeping a relationship going.  Oh sure, they were great at first.  The sex was great (I thought), but eventually, the women would tire of me, and things would end, leaving me heartbroken and confused more often than not.  For years, this was the pattern, and patterns, we all know, are based on a specific, and common cause.  It wasn’t until I met *her that I figured it all out.  She was 11 years my senior, in her prime, and not afraid to tell me exactly what she wanted (take note of that one, ladies).  If I did things right, I was told so, and if I did things wrong, well, I heard about that too.  Through it all, I noticed two specific kinds of patterns emerging, depending on what I did.  Now I’ve already touched on the pattern of failure.  That was easy.  When I concentrated on my needs *at the same time* as hers, it would often end in disappointment and failure.  Again, I’m a man.  However…however, if I concentrated on her needs first…if I gave it my all and made sure she was satisfied, orgasmic, many times before I thought of myself, well, there’s very little in this world that I consider to be truly magical.  A multiply orgasmic woman is one of those things.  It’s right up there with the finale of the big 4th of July fireworks display, only without music by John Phillip Souza as accompaniment.  Unless that happens to be your thing.

So in a nutshell, here is The Pants Rule:


Let me repeat that.


Men, this is exactly how you stop being selfish.

I hear you out there, saying, “But, but, how?  It could take a long time to make that happen!”  Well, yeah.  It could.  You might end up not being able to hold your keys the next day due to muscle fatigue in your fingers.  Or, for those of you out there willing to go the distance the right way, perhaps you’ll have problems talking because, let’s face it, your tongue is sprained (honestly, if you really cared, you’d learn to breathe through your ears…).  Well, too fucking bad.  As a man, you have the responsibility to GET THE JOB DONE.  If you put that much effort and energy into getting her naked and willing in the first place, MAKE IT COUNT!  I guarantee you she won’t object to an hour or two of foreplay.  There. Is. No. Time. Limit.

Here’s a thought.  Want to blow her mind?  Try this!  Make her come 3 times (minimum), and then beg off that you have an early meeting.  Never even remove the pants!  How about that?  What do you think will go through her head?  I feel quite confident that if you do that, she WILL come back.  Gratefully.  Which really, is an admirable goal.  To be soooo good that she’s actually grateful for your attention?  And don’t let her fake it!  Be sure, absolutely sure that she’s come.  And come HARD.

If you satisfy your woman in that way, it can only lead to a better community, a better world, and a better tomorrow for everybody.  I’m convinced that that’s the road to world peace.  A world chock full of multiply orgasmic women.

It will take true grit, and testicular fortitude on your part, men, but I have faith, dammit, I have faith.  I have faith that you all can be the orgasm donors that you should be.  Work it until she screams “Enough! Enough! Enough!” Carb load beforehand if you have to, but GET IT DONE!

Alright!  Do your duty, men.  MAN UP.