Friday, September 27, 2013

Ask-A-Dude: WTH 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: Men. Ughhhhhhhhh! What the hell?

A: Good question.

For some reason, my Twitter stream lately has been full of bad behavior by guys who should know better.

I talk, jokingly, about bad behavior and the evolutionary biology that underpins it. But seriously, I'm an idiot. If I told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it? If I begged? What if I told you we'd make millions on YouTube? More than enough to cover medical bills. Still no? Good on you, that's the right answer.

The truth is, we're closer to the heat death of the universe than we are to the biological beginnings that evolved our asses. I wear glasses. How easy do you think it would have been for me to find a One Hour Optical on my way to the bronto-crane at the Bedrock quarry? Over 60% of Americans, like me, couldn't pick their own feet out of a police line-up, they have such bad eyesight. Back in the stone-age, we'd be dead. And yet, we've overcome our biology with a tiny bit of glass and some ingenuity.

Is it really that hard to believe that we can overcome our biology in other areas? Or is it more likely that some people have a vested interest in perpetuating the narrative that guys behave like idiots because of biology.

Anyone who argues that biology somehow excuses bad behavior should be barred from voting. And making movies. And cooking. Honestly, I'm at a loss trying to come up with something useful those people could be trusted to do, so why don't we just agree to put them in a museum.
Docent (played by James Lipton): Here we have Homo sapiens in his natural habitat. Normally the male of the species sleeps twenty hours a day but we've pulled all the Doritos from his cupboards as an incentive to. . .oh, look. He's cranky. Step back as he slams his face against the glass in a desperate attempt to extract himself of this Dorito-free nightmare. Oh, no. No, no. DO NOT FLING YOUR POO! Okay, people, keep moving. We'll get someone to hose that room down shortly. Next up, the cutest little wolf pups!
It's amazing to me that we continue to argue that "boys will be boys" and then act all surprised when that's exactly what they do. You know what happens in my house when my boys act like boys? We get out the star chart.

I think it might be time for a National Star Chart. You get a star if you work hard, clean your room, call your mother and treat all women with respect. You lose stars for wolf-whistles, creeper texts, and using the phrase "friend-zoned." Oh, and you get actual jail time for felonies.

At the end of the week, if you have enough stars, you get a tax deduction and you can pick anything you want from the Prize Box (which is really just a beer cooler). Stop! You get one prize, not a six-pack. You behaved like a gentleman, you didn't #$%@ing cure cancer! That's a good boy. Now go enjoy it slowly, not like it's oxygen and you're stranded in outer space.

And speaking of space, if, at the end of the week you have no stars, we launch you into the sun.

Do we all understand the National Star Chart rules? Okay, Obama, ball's in your court!

Since Ted Cruz will probably filibuster the NSC, we may have to go with Plan B. That involves getting to know women so we can communicate in a mature way and not make each other crazy.

If only there was a way to walk in someone else's shoes. Myself, I'd enjoy spending a day in my wife's Louboutin's. But she gets mad when I stretch them out and get them all hairy and that's a different thing entirely and not what I'm here to talk about. No, I'm referring to walking in someone else's shoes, metaphorical-like. Seeing the world from a different perspective, understanding what it's like to be a woman.

Oh, wait! There IS a way! It's called reading and while there are plenty of titles dealing with gender, equality and communication, I'd suggest starting closer to home, guys. Read some YA.

I've made this point before, that YA is like the collective wisdom of the female writers who make up the majority of YA authors. Not to say there aren't some uber-dudes writing YA (John Green, I'm farting in your general direction), just saying you could definitely learn a thing or two about the female condition by bulking up on a broad spectrum of YA titles.

Short of actually, ya know, TALKING to women, I guess this will do. One step at a time, right?

Talking doesn't always work because, to guys, women are as mysterious as the quantum world. You remember how Schrรถdinger's Cat was both alive AND dead until observed? That's how we feel when we try a pick-up line from a movie. How can "Swoon. I'll catch you." work so well for Ralph Fiennes in The English Patient but get my bro kicked to the curb when he tries it at the bar? It's like the line is both sexy AND creepy. Well, it is, at at least until you observe my bro. Then it's definitely creepy.

Reading YA has taught me that there are many such superimpositions of state that make no sense to the male mind but are perfectly at home in a woman's. And, just like quantum theory is actually old now, and allows for computers and satellites and all manner of stuff we use unquestioningly every day, it's completely okay to live with these superimpositions. You don't have to disentangle the particles. You don't have to "crack the code."

Just make an effort to see the world from a different perspective, and soon it won't seem like a contradiction to believe that not all kisses are invitations, nor invitations promises. That there's a fine line between smelling musky and smelling like a hobo. That sweat isn't disgusting until it is.

And that Ralph Fiennes can get away with a lot on a movie set you shouldn't even think about trying.

Copil actually has his OWN Louboutins to walk in. Pictures on Twitter (@Copil).


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