Friday, March 22, 2013

Ask-A-Dude: TMI Edition!

Hello, everyone! Welcome back to another edition of Ask-a-Dude!

Remember, you can ask your own questions using the submission form on the right!

Today's question is:

Q: What's up with guys I'm dating telling me gross stories (fart, toilet & vomit themed, especially)?

A: ZOMG, that totes reminds me of the first time I went to Tijuana and. . .wait. I'm doing it, aren't I?

Sorry. No, I can do this, I'm a professional, I can answer this question, and I can do it without a single reference to anything foul, like, say, Spud's breakfast-with-the-parents scene from Trainspotting. 

MOTHER OF PEARL, I did it again, didn't I?!

Well, you can't blame me, you have to blame my father. He's the one who'd lift one knee and clench his fist whenever he farted. My brother and I thought this was hilarious, and Dad probably learned it from his father before him, who learned it from his before that. In fact, if we're pointing fingers (and if we are, then you should take a moment to pull mine), there's probably a common ancestor somewhere in the Lower Paleolithic who wowed his paelo-bros by gathering them in a circle and announcing he had discovered fire, an invention for lighting farts. I think it took another ten thousand years for fire to be used for anything else.
This might burn a little
Think about it. For a lot of guys, bathroom humor is the first thing dads and sons bond over. When I used to change my son's diapers, he would sometimes give me one of those cute little baby toots, the kind that sounds like Thomas the Tank Engine coming into the station. I'd swivel my head, looking around the room as if I had no clue where the sound came from, and I was rewarded with his tiny giggles, as delicate as unicorn burps.

That black smoke ain't steam
Now do you get it? Gross stories and vulgar jokes aren't just entertainment. To men they're patrilineal legacies, handed down from one stinky palm to the next. You shouldn't be horrified, you should be honored. It's no different from when we go down on one knee and hand you our grandmother's engagement ring, the one she smuggled out of the old country in her brassiere, and ask you to marry us. Same thing.

No? Not buying it?

Okay, fine.

Look, there are two main reasons why we do this sort of thing.

First, as I explained before, we start seeing terrible male behavior just after birth. We simply aren't exposed often enough to guys getting what they want through good behavior. Once we start modeling what we see, it's all downhill. It could be worse, of course. Going by the movies we watch and the games we play, you're lucky we don't show up wearing alien body armor, sucking Axe Body Spray from an IV, and offering to help your ex rob a pawn shop because it worked for Ryan Gosling.

Guys, the one exception to most rules is Ryan Gosling. No one really cares what he's wearing (although less seems to be better). Also, he and Channing Tatum are the only two carriers of a special enzyme that turns Axe Body Spray into the smell of a world-class baker who's ranked nationally in competitive full-body snuggling.
I would gay so hard for these two. (Sorry, honey).
But good behavior IS possible. Let me tell you a little story about my friend, Dong Everfardt*, half Chinese, half German, bless his heart. With a name like that, it would've been easy to just go with the flow, maybe come up with a few self-deprecating name-related gross-out jokes to show he didn't take himself too seriously. But he chose a different path. Instead of joining in with the fart jokes, he'd change the subject. He went against the flow, and you know what? Dude got a PhD, married a wonderful woman and has a daughter who's lucky to call him dad.

Guess how many times his wife has heard him fart after twenty years of marriage? Zero. That's right, boys, zero. So never accept there's only one way. If Dr. Everfardt can do it, so can you.

Graduates of the 'Everyone's Doing It' Finishing School might use modeling to excuse their derpy actions, but this still doesn't really explain WHY. 

Here's the real reason we act like morons, especially on dates, and extra-especially if we really like you.

We're insecure.

Holy sh!t, I said it! I really SAID IT! It feels so good, like a great weight lifted off my shoulders! I can finally go out as a self-actualized human DOING instead of just a mere human BEING! I'm FREE!!
21 Gifs With Shocking Twist Endings
Here I gooooooooooooooooooooooo
Ladies, you probably knew we were being insecure all along. It doesn't make it any better, of course, managing insecurities is kinda like bathing with soap, we should be able to do this, at a minimum, if we want a second date with you.

God forbid he REALLY likes you. Ugh, then you're in for the most horrific game of Jeopardy! ever. "I'll take 'Things I've Found in My Urethra' for $100, Alex."
Guys, don't, just don't. Ask yourself, is there some other story I can tell? Perhaps even one I've made up or cribbed from a Hallmark card? Hell, even stringing random words together is likely to be more effective. She'll think you're having an aneurysm and you guys can share the love over vending machine snacks at the emergency room. You're definitely more likely to get past the first date (or the "seven year itch," or your golden anniversary, or pretty much any random day) if you just talk about something else.

And no fair getting lazy once you're going steady (do kids still 'go steady' or do they just get His and Hers STD tests?). I know (Lord, do I know) the temptation is great after many years with a partner to bust out the story of the first time you had explosive diarrhea anywhere other than your bathroom. Actually, no one wants to know about the time you had it in the bathroom, either. Really actually, no one, except perhaps your doctor, wants to hear about it, full stop.
Doctor, here. I can confirm we don't want to know about it, either.
Guys, if you really, truly need to get these stories out, why don't you save them for your next airplane trip and tell them to the stranger sitting next to you? Ah, I can see a few of you nodding sagely, as if you've already encountered some of these evolved males on an oversold flight with no where to run.

Guys, you could also visit a Vulgarian Escort. No, not Captain Kirk's new female conquest in the latest Star Trek movie. Vulgarians are men or women paid to listen to your stories and pretend to be entertained. Actually, this is not a thing but in a capitalist society, it should be. Raise your hand if you'd pay to have your boyfriend visit a Vulgarian once a week?

Whatever the cause, clearly this is not your fault. On some level you might take it as a compliment since it's motivated out of anxiety borne of your intoxicating beauty.

Perhaps my conversation should be with the guys out there. Guys, if you're having trouble, I feel your pain. It's so haaaaard to not mention the time your balls got caught in your zipper. But I'm your bro, bro. So here's a simple flowchart, click on it and read it before your next date:
In case that's just not clear enough for you, here are some further guidelines:

On a date, it's ONLY okay to mention any of the four bodily humors if:
  • You found your partner on, the Insane Clown Posse dating site
  • You're the next contestant on The Bachelor and good taste has no meaning in your world (*cough* Jake Pavelka *cough*)
  • Your PhD dissertation was about potty humor in Victorian England
Even then, boys, keep it to a minimum and stop when the main coarse arrives. Seriously, no one wants to discuss your colonoscopy over beef medallions.

Guys, use some common sense, don't talk with your mouth full and remember to wear a rubber band around your wrist.

Ladies, if you really like him, let him have one fart joke as a gimme to break the tension. After that, if he mentions anything disgusting, reach over and pull back the rubber band as far as you can. Then let go.

As my old Mexican grandmother used to say, "Most of the good ones are taken. The rest will come around with a little operant conditioning."

Good luck!

*not his real name

Did Copil ever tell you about the time he found himself chained to a radiator in an abandoned insane asylum with only a rusty hacksaw to escape? OMG, great story. . .you can hear the rest on Twitter (@Copil).


Eliza Tilton said...

Rofl. My husband does the pull my finger with my son all the time. My son thinks its the funniest thing in the world. I try not to laugh but it is kinda funny.

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