Why I’ll Never Understand How Any Woman Could Like Any Man, Ever
You know when you look at a couple and think, “Wow, how did he get her?” (Think back to Katy Perry and Russell Brand or Mila Kunis and the grown-up “Home Alone” kid.) That’s what I think about every couple I see. Every. Single. One.
How did HE get HER?
Women are beautiful. Women are works of art. Women are so appealing that even other straight women will have a few drinks, take a look at their sexuality, say “f*ck it” and make out with the woman at the party who looks the most like Ruby Rose.
What would it take for you, straight men, to hook up with another guy? Depending on how homophobic and insecure in your masculinity you are, it would probably take anything from “not even a billion dollars, bro” to “when hell freezes over.”
Either way, we -- my fellow straight man and I -- can all agree it’s something we’d rather not do, no matter how many wine coolers deep we are.
And that’s because women are just naturally attractive, naturally appealing to all, including their own kind. But men? We aren’t appealing in the slightest, and I can’t imagine how or why you, woman reading this, would ever go for us.
We’re (almost) all frighteningly stronger than you.
And you’re inviting us to your place, knowing little more about us than our first names, if that. (“Bobby, was it?”)
According to the School of Physical and Health Education at Queen's University in Ontario, Canada, men have, on average, 40 percent more upper body muscle and 33 percent more lower body muscle than women.
As a guy, this would be the equivalent of us asking out, as Louis CK brilliantly and hilariously puts it, a half bear, half lion.
And the underlying threat of this strength makes you afraid to stick up for yourself when we do scary sh*t to you, like catcall you inappropriately, touch you at bars and just assume we have permission to enter your personal space whenever the f*ck we want.
Basically, unless you’re Ronda Rousey, every date you have is a near-death experience. Sorry.
We have dicks, and dicks are disgusting.
On the subject of dick pics, the nicest thing you’ll hear a woman say is something along the lines of, “Dicks, out of context, are gross.” Just ask these women.
Basically, if a woman isn’t ready for it, she doesn’t want to see it. And that’s because there isn’t really much dick appeal at all (aesthetically, or otherwise, if you ask me).
A picture of a woman naked is never unwelcome. Going to church, taking the SATs, giving blood, attending Grandpa’s funeral -- a special pic from a woman will always induce pleasant, safe, warm feelings.
There is no “context” needed for a sext from a woman because the sight of a naked woman is never, ever out of context for us. But the sight of a naked dick? That sh*t is always out of context, even when it's not.
If only Sports Illustrated spent the last 100 years objectifying dicks as much as they objectified tits.
We have no sense of direction and don’t need your or anybody else’s help.
We don’t prepare. We don’t plan. And we don’t always think with our heads.
If that weren’t enough, we are completely closed off to receiving any sort of outside help. We don’t want to read or ask for directions. We don’t want you to help, and I’m not even really sure why. It’s just something that goes against our very stubborn nature.
I would just rather drive around aimlessly for an extra two hours than sit there like an assh*le for two minutes while my girl asks a local where the f*ck Whole Foods is.
We do stupid sh*t in the name of wanting to f*ck you.
Nearly every bad decision a guy makes can be traced back to his libido. I firmly believe this.
Take Robin Thicke for example (you truly, truly are thick, Robin); he was married to one of the most beautiful women on the planet and had been with her since he was a f*ckboy in high school.
Then, he and Pharrell put a few naked hot chicks (never out of context) in a music video for a song that may or may not be about date raping someone -- catchy beat + rapey lyrics = a recipe for pop music success, apparently -- and all of a sudden, the low-key, European-club-promoter-looking crooner achieved nationwide fame.
And with that fame came more female options. And with those options came sexual temptation that he and his dick had to deal with. And with that temptation came her decision to leave him, aka the worst mistake of Robin’s life.
And with the worst mistake of Robin’s life came a bunch of sh*tty songs he shamelessly dedicated to her in a feeble attempt to “Get Her Back.”
You f*cked up, bro. You really f*cked up.
We can’t remember sh*t.
Birthdays. Anniversaries. Valentine’s Day. Who can keep track of all of this sh*t?
Oh, that’s right. Women can. And you’ll remind us after we forget -- instead of reminding us before we do -- because why the f*ck not, right?
And you’ll read into us forgetting -- hard -- thinking it’s a sign we don’t care about you, when really, we just can’t remember sh*t.
According to Daily Mail, women have better memories because the brain's memory hub shrinks in men, but not in women, between the ages of 20 and 40.
The article continues to say, however, that men are better at multitasking than women. And I have a theory as to why...
We think unspeakable thoughts about you.
Your best friend’s dad who tells you “you’ve really grown into yourself over the years.” The guy at Starbucks who adds an extra dollop of cream to your coffee because “you’re his favorite customer.” The construction worker who asks you for “some fries with that shake,” or whatever the f*ck catcallers say. All of these men have thought about you in some gross, disgusting capacity -- and trust me, those thoughts weren’t pretty.
And while it might seem like you’re the victim here, WE’RE the real victims. The curse of it all is for us -- there is no turning off these thoughts.
When you’re a guy, there’s no lighting a few pumpkin-scented candles in your room, pressing play on your “Fifty Shades of Grey” audiobook and gently twisting the faucet of dirty thoughts in your mind while you have a little “me time.”
For us, these thoughts are more like a dam bursting. And there’s no telling when we’re going to think them or who the victim of these thoughts is going to be. But rarely (never) has there been a time when we’ve thought them in a situation where we can actually vocalize them -- unless we’re with our boys, and, still, it’s not always safe.
Consequently, we have been training since our first pube to push these thoughts back into our heads so we can focus on other tasks throughout our day -- a skill that undoubtedly conditioned our ability to multitask.
Because if we were truly vocal about every thought we had, no woman would speak to us ever again.
And as a guy who’s plagued with these thoughts and all of these traits, a part of me will always be secretly in disbelief when I ask a woman out and she says, “Yes.”