As salad tossing becomes an evermore common offer on the menu of sexual relations (I hope you’re picturing Bill Clinton saying that phrase), it has managed to reach the sort of level that head-giving has. And, as we all know, the type of “man” who gets head without giving it is the ultimate selfish piece of shit. The same goes for rimming.
What could be better?
While, yes, a certain amount of “higher intimacy” is usually required in order for a “man” to be willing to toss a woman’s salad, why is it that he always seems to expect it as the norm for himself from a woman he barely knows. Moreover, how gay is he on the Kinsey scale if he has such a predilection for getting his ass eaten? While Khia blazed the trail for even discussing this sexual phenomenon, it’s still not addressed the way it needs to be, particularly on the woman’s part, as she is the most willing to take a crack at the crack without asking for anything in return. Thus, the sexual revolution won’t be complete until equality is reached on this front.
In what many are calling “the feminization of society,” it’s easy for “men” to take advantage of this so-called fact by not bothering with the cultivation of a personality. Instead, they prefer the ease and lack of effort it takes to stand next to a woman (who probably makes more money than him) and watch her take the spotlight.
“Men”: as good as a dummy
While many women are perfectly fine with this–indeed, they prefer it after so long under patriarchal oppression–there is something to be said for the “man” who does not go along with everything his girlfriend or sex friend dictates. It gives him this raw sort of edge and power that makes him stand apart from the wall of dickless ilk lining the waterfront of Williamsburg.
The relationship between secular buildings and churches has become a strong one of late, what with the potential for converting them into condos. The latest case is an edifice owned by Saint Peter and Paul Church, which has stipulated as a clause in their lease that in order to live in the building, tenants must refrain from “non-Catholic activities.”
What Jesus would do
A non-Catholic activity, of course, includes stem cell research, taking birth control, having an abortion, watching porn and partaking in euthanasia (giving or receiving, I assume). That’s right, most Brooklynites’ favorite things are banned from their existence if they want to live in this prime spot on Wythe Avenue and South 2nd Street. As a “man,” opting to live there would definitely rule out getting evicted for abortions and birth control use, but it would allow the further castration of your genitals for sure. As Missy Elliott once asked, “Is it worth it?”
For whatever reason, “men” like to believe that others care about their generally uninformed opinion. This is probably why so many of them prefer to comment on something posted on Facebook rather than simply liking it, not seeming to understand that the comments section is typically reserved for the over 50 set.
Keep yo comments to yo damn self
What they fail to take into account is that no one cares about what they have to say, nor does the person posting wish to endure the embarrassment of whatever their “witty” (read: snarky) comment is attempting to say. To add to the dicklessness, these “men” don’t even bother to hit the like button in addition to their comment to at least somewhat cushion the blow. But alas, since no one listens to them in life, perhaps they feel inclined to get their sentiments expressed in a way that can’t be ignored by others.
Not that “men” who smoke weed are that awesome of ever make any money, but there is a certain respect one should have for the culture of stonerdom. Part of that culture is absurd food groups like Apple Jacks (and when you watch the commercial for it, you’ll clearly understand why) being considered genuine sustenance.
And yet, a recently busted family-run heroin ring (you know what they say: the family that smuggles drugs together hugs together) run out of South Williamsburg has proven that there is no respect for “men” who love marijuana. If there were, the ringleader would never have deigned to smuggle his contraband in Apple Jacks boxes throughout the boroughs–particularly Staten Island, Staten Island loves heroin. It should have been a disguise more fitting, like a jar of Nutella. I imagine one gets the same serene feeling of ecstaticness from an injection.
It is one thing to be gustatorily inclined, but it is quite another to want to go to a fucking museum about it. With the Museum of Food and Drink opening up in prime d-bag territory, near McCarren Park, all the “foodie” guys without dicks are going to be swarming around it.
Can’t you just eat instead of looking at food?
Not only does a “Food & Drink Museum” conjure images of like old ass moldy epicurean non-delights, it also screams pretension. Can’t you just eat instead of looking at your food and trying to “inspire day-to-day curiosity about what we eat and why.” We eat because we’re fucking hungry, bottom line. Or in some dickless “men’s” case, to find refuge in something that makes us forget we don’t have a dick. Maybe this is why most of the board of trustees for the museum are “men.” But one supposes it’s better than a Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding Museum.
Although it’s understandable that, with the average cigarette pack price being 14 dollars in NYC, one might be inclined to kill for just a drag, there is something rather gauche about a “man” who points a fake gun at another who refuses him a cigarette. If it were a real gun, then it might be construed as badass.
And that you should stop pretending to kill for cigarettes
However, since it wasn’t and the “man” was sitting at a bus stop when he did it, there is nothing roguish about it. On the other hand, the “man” who refused the cigarette has his own share in the dicklessness of this incident, as how stingy do you have to be to deny another nicotine-fiender his fix? All around, this incident bears the mark of classic Williamsburg in its Missing A Dickness.
Just as the old sexist adage, “The way to a ‘man’s’ heart is through his stomach,” the way to a woman’s heart is through material. While many (particularly women) would like to believe that, during these “progressive” times, there’s a bit more substance to a female than this, it can’t be denied that people with a vagina are susceptible to the charms of expensive–or at least sentimental–gifts.
And with women it’s material
It’s not necessarily that all women are superficial, it’s that they have a tendency to quantify love and caring by what a “man” can and is willing to give them. If he gives her nothing (not even head), then what does she have to prove that he truly gives a fig about the relationship? She’s lent him her many orifices and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on when he inevitably transmutes into a bitch boy, but all he’s done is consistently prove that he himself has nothing to offer in a literal or figurative way. So when all else fails and you feel her rightfully slipping away from you, give the girl material.