It’s hard, in these modern times, to act naturally. That’s why pretending to text or do other shit on your phone has become the new natural. If you’re not touching your phone constantly, you’re obviously some sort of Elliot Rodger type. Because to be alone in a bar automatically makes you a weirdo and/or Rohypnol-carrying rapist.
The non-dickless thing to do, however, is to just sit there, like the fearless man you could only dream of being, and not touch your phone. This means that even in the most pretentious of Williamsburg bars, including places like Dram or Roebling Tea Room, you must refrain from fake texting/checking your phone if you want to give your nether region dick-worthy status.
Let me start by noting, this is not about bestiality. This is about men who use their dog to allure the opposite sex. It’s pretty embarrassing for you and your dog when you use the unwitting beast to attract the affections of women. There is already an extreme lack of dignity in wanting to have sex in the first place, but not even being able to get it on your own merits just adds to the dishonor.
In Williamsburg, a place with one of the highest concentrations of dog-friendly bars, it makes sense that “men” would rely on this lazy tactic to draw in the oohs and ahhs, and the eventual opening of legs. If you’re ugly, try to use that modicum of charisma you’ve been suppressing instead of whoring out your dog.
I understand that it’s all very modern/creates the illusion of gender equality when women pay for their own shit. Even though women, on average, make 77 cents for every dollar a man makes, I guess it allows some “men” to feel better when they know they’re causing their piece of the moment to become slightly poorer. It’s empowering to fuck up someone’s bank account, after all, as money is the true source of all clout.
The stingy “man”
Sure, a “man” has no issue with paying for sexual services like lap dances or prostitutes, but when it comes to taking the time to put actual thought into buying something for a non-objectified woman, the concept seems almost grotesque. It’s not as though women expect something lavish, but they do expect something with sentiment behind it. However, being that many “men” are absent from their body for the most part, I suppose they forget that they have a tendency to come off as sociopaths.
And bear in mind there’s a difference between the obsequious “man” who pays for everything to the point of being sniveling versus the man who offers up his financial prowess in unexpected, yet generous doses. What’s worse is that the”man” with a stingy heart, who saves money for whatever delusional plans he may have for the future (probably to include escaping his wife or mother), is likely to be just as stingy in the boudoir, keeping track of even the faintest sexual courtesy. So bear this (and how your dick size is being perceived) in mind the next time you consider not picking up the check. Yes, I know it’s very expensive to go out in Williamsburg, but, fuck, you’re the one that chose to live there. Take her to Vanessa’s or The Meatball Shop or something and call it romance.
I don’t know about you, but I think a “man” shouldn’t need a waffle iron in order to successfully make waffles. In Williamsburg, where going out to brunch is the go-to solution for making breakfast, waffle irons tend to be a decorative kitchen appliance anyway. But for “men” who do actually display some sense of humanity and masculinity by making breakfast for their boyfriends (I assume girlfriends aren’t at play here), a waffle iron is their sole source of an appendage.
If you’re a dickless man, this is probably what you look like in the kitchen.
For the “man” who wants to take back his dick, making waffles without an appliance is a great way to start. Simply pour the batter onto a griddle as though you’re making pancakes, and then create square divots throughout using your bare fingertips. Shape the batter into a square using a spatula and watch your boyfriend get an instant erection as you serve it to him. Syrup recommended.
We all know she’s the entire reason for you’re being. And probably how you can afford to live in Williamsburg for the most part. But, at some point, you have to detach your umbilical cord in order to reattach your dick. Being too into your mother is not only Oedipal in the most cliche way, but also a detriment to your emotional and physical (read: dick) development.
An archetypal Williamsburg mom.
Although you’ve probably been nurtured in avant-garde private elementary schools your whole life and have been fed a steady diet of Fresh Direct by your tattooed mother, you’re ultimately never going to land another woman (or probably in your case, man) if you don’t stop letting her dress you and take you out to weekly brunches at Fabiane’s. Just let the woman live her life so you can finally live yours. Once you take your mother’s metaphorical dick out of your own asshole, you can at last put yours in someone else’s.
I don’t rightly know when Urban Outfitters first grafted hipster culture. But whenever they did, they decided that selling records would be the best way to appeal to the “stylish” “man.” With music selections from predictable acts like Nirvana and The Ramones, Urban Outfitters attracts the dickless man primarily because he’s also tasteless.
What’s more, if you’re buying records in the first place, you either 1) are trying to prove something or 2) probably don’t have a record player yet, but are trying to talk yourself into getting one. If you really must lower your musical taste to the mercy of what Urban Outfitters wants to sell you, you might as well buy Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours to secure your toolbaggery.
I’m all for men who eat healthily–within reason. There’s a certain limit, however, to what constitutes being health-conscious and dick unconscious. If you identify yourself as a “hegan,” you should probably strap on a zucchini to replace the void where your genitalia is.
A “man” shouldn’t even be comfortable identifying himself as vegan, let alone hegan. If you want to do the more cock-promoting thing, make yourself a plate of veggies with a generous side of steak to offset the vibe you’re putting out there about your nether region.