Douche Wars


I have noticed an increasing trend of male cattiness, and I’m not sure exactly how to describe it.  I can only compare it to how some women are just mindbogglingly awful to any woman who’s attractive, calling her a “slut” or, “a whore” or, “a cunt” or any other array of insults.  With men, the name of the game is the same, but the chosen, albeit completely boring and unoriginal, term is:


I won’t deny there are douches out there.  I won’t deny many of them love Ed Hardy and Affliction.  I won’t deny there aren’t men who make complete careers out of being douche bags -coughJerseyShorecough-.  Yet, I WILL deny the idea that every man who isn’t a slovenly, obese redneck is a douche.

Just because a guy CARES about how he looks doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a douche.  Just because he doesn’t choose his adornments by sniffing whatever is left on the floor and selecting, not that which doesn’t stink, but that which doesn’t stink as badly as the rest, does not make him an awful person.  Just because women would rather sleep with someone we don’t have to close our eyes and pretend is someone else doesn’t make good looking guys all assholes.  All walks of life produce dickheads.

The second we meet a man, we’re assessing his fuckability.  Yes, women do this.   Now, most of us realize there’s a 50/50 chance that any given man, any given PERSON really, regardless of his looks, is a dickhead.  So, if we’re already taking that chance, we would rather take it with somebody good looking who is actually TRYING to win our affection than somebody who isn’t.  It’s not all about DNA either.  Dressing well, smelling nice, and displaying a little muscle send us good messages.  It tells us you have pride, can take care of yourself, and have decent finances.  Do you think we LIKE doing your laundry, dressing you, learning how to tie a garment we will never wear because you’re too stupid to learn how to do it yourself, feeding you, cleaning your apartment, wiping your piss off the toilet rim, reminding you that you need a shower, nagging you about your diet/exercise problems, etc., etc., etc., ET FUCKIN’ CETERA?  HELL NO!  However, when you go out looking like a bum, THAT is the message you’re sending us.

We know there are plenty of well dressed men that can’t take care of themselves or their finances, but within the first nanosecond that we notice you and assess your fuckability, we’re not gonna think about that, just like how you don’t pass over the hot model and admire the fat goth girl in the corner and say, “Wow, I bet she’s really deep and smart and interesting.”  Likewise, we know there are plenty of men that seem like slobs on the outside, but can take care of themselves and their finances.  Yet, when you don’t even TRY TO PRETEND you’re not a pig, then neither will we.

I think the reason it angers men so easily is because only in recent years have women become more vocal about sexual desire.  The fact that we now ADMIT (we always felt this way, but have only recently been “allowed” to express it) that we like sex and we like it from a good looking, in shape guy who knows what he’s doing, and that being “funny and smart” but built like Chris Farley just isn’t enough for most of us drives some men up the wall.  They don’t like female sexual independence, which is the real reason they hate “douches.”  Most of them aren’t even aware that’s the reason, but it is.

Also, classically, men are used to doing most of the sexual selection, and now the tables are starting to turn.  They are now getting a very itty, bitty, teeny, weenie glimpse of what it feels like to be rejected based solely on pure sex appeal and experience the pressure put on them to look their best….and they HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE it (for the record, so do we)!  Though, if I had a dime for every time a man could actually apply how bad it sucks to his own treatment of women…then…I’d be in massive debt and would have to dip into my, “I want smart, funny, independent woman,” aka, “Well, she’s smart because she’s with me, she’s funny because she laughs at my lame jokes, and she’s independent because she works AND does everything around the house,” IRA.

You know what?  I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you’re obese.

I’m sorry your wardrobe consists of tapered jeans and Hanes T-shirts.

I’m sorry you don’t know how to take care of yourself.

I’m sorry you’re lazy.

I’m sorry you’re SO uncomfortable with yourself.

I’m sorry you have no problem literally drooling over a young pair of tits, but then go insane when a woman does the same over a set of pecs.

Most of all, I’m sorry that between you and a fit, well dressed heterosexual, YOU are the bigger douche, even if he smells like he bathed in Axe body spray because of the two, he is the less insecure.  Yet, I don’t expect you to change because you have such a big support network of other losers who also can’t figure out why they can’t get women, which is apparently more important than actually GETTING a woman.  Alas, maybe you’ll luck out and meet a woman with self esteem just low enough not to care that you’re a loser.


Welcome, oh welcome to my little blog…

For my entire adult, professional life, I’ve traveled down a fear-based career path.  I wish I could say that it was the road less traveled.  Not only is it the most congested road in the realm of responsibility, but  it’s also the most treacherous.  It may fatten  the wallet, but will starve the soul.  People believe that past a certain age their dreams are silly, impractical, juvenile, and stifling.  Certainly, they are at times.   It’s not my intent to sound like the script of a run of the mill romantic comedy or a children’s animated movie.  Dreams do not always come true and when they do, it’s often not to the capacity we had hoped.  It is a difficult reality to face, but that idea also causes people to think that their dreams won’t come true at all, so they should just, suck it up, let down their dreams go, and wander down the beaten path, and if they’re lucky, they’ll make enough money to take a vacation once in a while and won’t want to commit suicide every morning when they hear that annoying little, “BEEP,” as they scan their badges and resentfully walk to their desks, emotionally preparing themselves for at least eight hours of excremental  invariability.

I’ve watched my father suffer down this unfortunate path for years.  While he is at an age where he should be eyeing retirement, he’s eyeing the employment ads because even though he has years of experience in management, he is massively underpaid and underemployed.  He is a victim in a certain way.  He worked in IT at Ford Motor Company in Detroit.  He was offered another job in Atlanta.  His other choice was to stay in Detroit and take a job that would put him about 10 years behind where he was at the time.

A few short years after he decided to move himself and his family to a place unknown, thus changing all of our lives forever, Ford Motor Company completely dissolved his department, which was hundreds of people.  He felt IT was a shaky proposition at the time, and the car business was still doing well, so he chose to start working in car dealerships, which turned out to be extremely unreliable, not to mention, a few years later, the bottom fell out of the car business.  He bounced around from dealership to dealership, as they closed their doors, or sold themselves to new companies who subsequently laid off everyone.  The last layoff finally inspired him to try to look for work elsewhere, but since the economy had already declined, and he had years of experience in the car business, very few companies gave him a chance.  It’s pretty hard to reinvent yourself in your 50s.  So, he accepted a job at a call center, making the same amount of money he made 30 years ago, and dealing with 5000 times  more bullshit.

It’s been about 15 years that he’s been enduring this struggle and there’s no foreseeable end.  At a few points, while he was between jobs, I asked him, “What is it you REALLY want to do?  You’ve got nothing but time now, you might as well start doing something you like and are good at!”  He would never answer my question and worse would come up with a million excuses as to why he couldn’t follow his dreams, some legitimate, others not so much.  To this day, whenever I try to ask him, about his dreams, he acts embarrassed and says, “I don’t know.”

Suddenly, I woke up one day and realize I was doing the exact same thing.  Forcing myself into jobs I had NO interest in, but that gave me modest money, so I would stay, knowing I was worth more money and had invaluable skills, hating myself more and more each day for putting up with it, and yet continuing to put up with it, believing I had no choice because dreams are impractical and don’t pay the bills.

Finally, I said ENOUGH.  I quit my massively underpaying underemployment situation (it was a “temp” position, which had obscenely lasted over a year and a half), and decided to pursue my actual dreams and talents.  One of those talents, I believe, is writing.  So, I introduce you to my blog.  Here, I will be posting mostly opinion, some “features,” and a picture or two.  My goal is to get my writing out to interested minds and perhaps one of those minds will find me intriguing enough to lead me to gainful employment in writing (yeah, I know, like there aren’t a billion bloggers out there doing the same thing).  If nothing else, I will feel validated that I’m at least writing a lot and perhaps inspiring a person or two.

One last idea before I lay me down to sleep; dreams don’t have to be pie in the sky.  You don’t have to hate yourself because you’re not Derek Jeter, or Lady Gaga, or any one of a number of those reality show meat heads that have been blasted into your brain without your permission.  Dreams can still be done practically…or at least I hope.  All I know is, I’d much rather end up working at Taco Bell, knowing I at least tried than end up working in data entry because I didn’t think I had a choice.