The (Final) Way Things Sometimes Are: An Open Letter to the Men of the World

     

  

The Way Things Sometimes Are
oa CF Miley, Opinions Editor

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Dear Men of the World:

We have a problem. After a couple of
thousand years of patriarchal domination,
it appears that we have really fucked
things up. Let’s face it, we weren’t going to
be able to keep the women subservient
forever; many of them are way smarter
than us, and they’re born with certain
attributes that we simply must be near. You
know: wicked-smelling hair, soft skin,
boobs, the secret garden. Let’s not forget
the secret garden. I’m getting hot just typ-
ing those
Secret...Garden...mmmmmmmm.

two words.

It’s like we’re in a game of high-stakes
Texas Hold ’em, we’re down to the final
two, it’s men against women, but—biolog-
ically speaking—they’re holding all the
chips. Men are left trying to bluff with a
short stack. (Women, you may giggle here
and think about the connection between
“short stack” and “small penis.” More on
that later.) But our biological needs have
been around since the first caveman
enticed the first cavewoman into the cave
with promises of “just a little shoulder
rub.” Men’s current poor reputation is
born more of some of us acting like ass-
holes than it is of biological imperative.
Basically, there are a few types of guys
that are fucking things up for the rest of
us. Let me explain.

Two-pump Chumps.

We've all had a night or two we wish we
could have back. Nights when we should
have admitted that we were “too drunk to
fuck,” or some such thing. Okay, there, I
said it. We all have one person who we
wish we could call up and say, “Vd just like
to apologize for the other night. It wasn’t
the type of effort I usually give, and I’d
really like another shot to make it up to
you.” But that kind of phone call is damn
near impossible to make, even if you
somehow managed to come away with a

August 10/2005

correct phone number after such a shitty
showing.

But some guys are chronic under-
achievers, out for one person and one
person alone—themselves. Save that shit
for masturbation, you sons of bitches,
you're giving us all a bad name. Actually,
cancel that order. You go right ahead and
continue being just as shitty in bed as you
can. All men know that women are grad-
ing us On a curve, so youre crappy sex life
is actually raising my stock if I eventually
sleep with your ex. I guess I should say
thanks, but your crappy sexual perform-
ances ate likely the result of some
self-obsessed delusions of personal enti-
tlement, so fuck you.

Cheating Sons-of-Bitches

If you simply must fuck someone other
than your partner, and you’re in a monog-
amous relationship, break up with your
girl before you fuck someone else. ’m not
saying that serial cheaters created jealousy,
but you’re certainly not doing the rest of
us any favours. Getting cheated on is
embarrassing and totally fucking painful.
It makes a person feel somehow less than
what they are, regardless of how great
they truly are. It takes the rest of us
years—and literally thousands of compli-
ments—to undo that damage. So quit
being such filthy man whores and try
being a stand-up guy for a change. The
truth hurts, but not as much as lies do.
Get a spine and buck up, you cheatin’,
lyin’, sons-a-bitches. Even yo momma
hates you.

“Little
Complexes”
So you took all the pain that being born

Guys with Napoleonic

short caused you and channeled it into
making money, which you now use to
entice hot women into bed for some
“power fucking.” Yeah, Bitch. You’re still
short. You still get laughed at behind your
back. The only difference between you
back then and you now is that you now
deserves the abuse. The Brad Pitts and
Angelina Jolies of the world are few and
far between. We’ve all got something we
hate about our physical appearances. Why
do all you “little guys” have to take your
self-loathing and spew it at others, espe-
cially at women? So you were born short.
Get the fuck over it already.

“Small-Dick-Having Motherfuckers”

Don’t combine your physical under-
endowment with an apathetic attitude. A
wise man once said, “If you’re hung like a
hamster, you better have a tongue like a

snake.’ Wise indeed. "Nuff said.

Et Tu, Fruité?

These guys aren’t necessarily screwing
things up for the rest of us, but they exist
and deserve mention. These guys are one
sector of what became of the “SNAG-
GIT, New-Age Guy”
population when the 790s finally whim-
pered to a close. They’re all touchy feely,

or, Sensitive

they’re heterosexual with a twist, and
they’re basically acting gay in order to get
close to some hot babe that may not oth-
erwise give them the time of day. Then, all
of a sudden, once the babe is chuckling at
their insightful comments and _ talking
about shoes and Brazilian waxings, they
spring into action, attempting to bed the
chosen ones.

The metrosexual phenomenon has
spawned these hybrids, and they have to
be confident to pull it off. They’re better
than the usual “bar star” types, and this
method is a proven winner to get past the
cock-blocking friend whose existence
seems tied to ensuring that no guy gets to
have sex with her hot buddy. Beware of
these guys. They’re smart enough to have
a plan, something that is too often a for-
eign concept to us regular guys.

So, there you have it. A simple break-
down of the types of guys that are
constantly breaking down the potential
for the rest of us to be judged on our per-
sonal merits. Most women seem to think
that 90 percent of guys are jerks, idiots,
and infectious lepers. That isn’t true, it’s
just that it’s easier to lump us together and
call all men assholes. So, Men of the

©)

~~

   

 

World, get your shit together and start act-
ing like you give a shit. As one friend put
it, “Women don’t ask for much, just a
dirty boy who smells good.” Be that dirty
boy, Men. We'll all be better off for it.
Colin Miley thanks anyone who read

“The Way Things Sometimes Are” over
the past year. He’ll miss doing it with you.
Errr, he means, “for you.”

BONW 2009, STAFF PICKS

Colin Miley, Opinions Editor

Best local eatery:
Kasuga Sushi at Sixth and Sixth. It’s rawfish-o-licious.

Best local watering hole:
Three-way tie between Brooklyn’s, Scruffy McGuire’s, and the bench over-

looking the Patullo Bridge (that’s all I’m gonna say about that, it’s wy
bench).
Best place to go instead of going to class:
To Hell. You go straight to Hell! Or Scrufty’s,
Best word(s) to describe Douglas College:
Potential.
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More monkey pictures per page than any publication this side of the Other
Primate (especially if you include columnist photos).
Best cheap massage (with release):
No comment.
Best crack dealer:
Yo’ Momma.

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