“Men” are the great manifestations of the saying, “Give an inch, and they’ll take a mile.” And yes, that’s precisely what Britney Spears did in briefly taking leave of her senses long enough to think that marrying Kevin Federline would be a good idea. K-Fed, for as dumb as he’s painted to be, was shrewd enough to see that this was likely to be a short-lived opportunity, therefore impregnating her twice so as to bind her bank account to his forever. And, when the inevitable divorce did come, the settlement left K-Fed with $20,000 a month in child support payments (as if Federline is actually spending all of that on anything other than Doritos dipped in gold–have you seen his figure lately?).
But now that Federline has escaped his food coma haze long enough to realize that Britney made bank during her Piece of Me residency ($475,000 a show will really help increase the integers of one’s worth), he’s demanding more. That Federline would deign to make this request after all Spears has given him over the years (including, but not limited to, access to her vagina and drugs) is a cardinal exemplification of how “men,” when they can no longer get something physical or emotional out of a woman, must then seek other avenues through which to plague her. Mercifully for K-Fed, Spears has the kind of money that has and is allowing him to suckle further from her milky financial teat until it shrivels even more than it probably already has physically. Luckily for “men” who have run out of ways to torment post-breakup, this trend of women being more successful is only working out in their favor, as it gives them the opportunity to collect the bounty they feel has been stolen from them in “permitting” women to get ahead in any way, least of all feel the freedom of not being paranoid about how their ex is going to come for them in monetarily damaging fashions that will never allow them the full enjoyment of the fruits of their rewards.
There’s perhaps no worse breed of “man” than the music snob–the one who will either only listen to Bach like the skull fucker he is or only go to or participate in DIY shows like an elitist motherfucker pretending to be a “man” of the people. There is no in-between with “men” when it comes to music. They’re either “classicist”-loving pretension-wads or angst-ridden alt rock/indie adoring fuckboys. And if they do love or even vaguely appreciate pop music, you’re probably fucked anyway because it generally signals a predilection for their love of other “men” in addition.
Even so, just because a “man” might cringe when he hears the opening, dated notes to “…Baby One More Time” doesn’t mean he ought to begrudge you one of your few simple pleasures in life, often, these days involving the making of a video of some variety to go along with your lip syncing. And anyway, is it a crime if your body responds to the frothy melodies of a pop star like Ariana Grande or the so-called vacuous lyrics of women so frequently describing being abandoned and done wrong in the most upbeat way they can? (e.g. “Sorry” by Beyonce). How else are they (and the women they appeal to) supposed to cope with the constant disappointments and fuckery if not shaking it off with the type of ditty that laments, “You just keep on pushing my love over the borderline” while also allowing you to move your arse on the dance floor? So no, do not begrudge a lady her devotion to pop music. She doesn’t hold it against you when you splooge over Radiohead, after all.
As the newly evolved Britney Spears has iterated on her Glory album, “Yes or no, but no maybes/Not gonna beg, so don’t make me.” The resonance of this statement comes at a time when “men” are more prone than ever to using the expression, “Let’s just play it by ear” as a means to stave off commitment to any one path or person.
And, sure, the phrase might be older than the telegram, but its evasive nature is just what the modern “man” craves for casual, non-offensive avoidance. Though the term was originally meant to refer to the art of playing music without using the sheet notes, it soon evolved into what it is today: a way to say, “equivocalness is best.” Not only does the “man” who often reverts to this phrase when asked to decide upon anything real have issues with denial, but also–and worst of all–with dangling. Let a bitch fall off the ledge rather than holding her there wondering if she’s going to make it out alive. Otherwise she’s liable to pull herself up by your floppy, hair-ridden ears.
Talking closely in someone’s face is never acceptable, even when you’re metaphorically close to them. Regardless of whether you brush your teeth more than twice a day, the smell of breath is always just that: breath–and no one wants it wafting closely to their visage, especially a lady. Plus, “men” who talk closely are notorious for not actually having anything worthwhile to say; they just want to assert themselves and this is the best way they know how.
Degrassi shows us how boys and girls should talk, in terms of the distance between them
If you have a secret or something dirty to say, you can whisper it into her ear. This is far sexier and more preferable to getting up in her face so that she can see that faintly forming whitehead underneath your nose. Think of it this way, do you like to look at women in HD? No, you don’t. And if you didn’t already know the answer to that question, it’s because women have the good sense to not reveal that they’re full-on Monets to you by not coming within .03 inches of your face (unless, of course, you’re eating them out–which you’re probably not).
For the most part, only gay “men” can appreciate the value of kitsch. That’s why finding a straight one who does is like finding a penis at a Sam Smith concert (damn near impossible). Or finding a penis in Taylor Swift’s bed. You get the drift: I like to make dick references. It’s difficult to discern why the straight male brain has so little room to understand the importance and hilarity of camp. Maybe his mind is too preoccupied with other dickless endeavors like watching the Super Bowl or making money (a “man” should just have money, not be obsessed with getting his hands on it).
Bucket hats and judgmental faces: what’s not to understand?
Whatever the reason for a “man’s” lack of understanding of pop culture and humor that’s, shall we say, clinquant, it can really detract from a relationship–particularly when a “man” is overly literal. How is a woman supposed to be with someone who doesn’t see the importance in watching a Glitter/Crossroads double feature? While Williamsburg “men” are gay bitches in so many ways, they aren’t in the one way that counts: comprehending the irony of the garish.