Listen, there’s a pretty simple logic to the way 90% of men wash their hands, and it goes a little something like this: your dick is one of, if not the, cleanest part of your body, and therefore, it makes zero sense to wash your hands after taking a leak. None at all. Now, will we, as men, sprinkle a little water on our hands and run the faucet to give the illusion of proper hygiene? Indubitably. But know that unless urine has somehow meandered onto a finger, there’s almost no chance at all that a guy is washing his hands post-piss.
For just about every guy that’s around the college age, there’s not much drive to have genuine thoughts and opinions on important political matters. Women, on the other hand, tend to have very strong opinions on many things related to social and political issues, so what do we, as a male species do? We lie. Yes, that’s right. We don’t tell the truth. It’s not that we believe the opposite or anything like that. We just don’t care, but the second that sex is on the table, a girl will be unable to find anyone on planet earth that shares her opinion more than the guy she’s dangling possible nudity in front of.
Sometime in college, most guys will reach a point where there is a constant wonder about if you are dying, dangerously ill, or if the reason you’re feeling as if your insides are about to explode from within is simply because you haven’t had a vegetable since before David Dobrik got cancelled. Despite a growing fear that you’re riddled with some kind of terminal disease, you will never under any circumstance take yourself to the doctor because, well, that would be a real pussy move.
This Many Beers
This lie can go either way: you either deceive the person regulating your alcohol into letting you have another beer or choose to over-exaggerate for any number of reasons. It’s pretty evident why one would want to lie about having fewer drinks than he’s actually had – getting “cut off” is always done by someone who doesn’t get that you always have complete control over how much alcohol you consume. The over-exaggeration, though, can come in handy for two different reasons. The first is to impress someone, which is a pretty pathetic move if we’re being honest. If you’re drunk, you’re drunk. No one cares if you had 10 beers or 20. The other is a move I’ve used on a few different occasions when a young lady who, well let’s be polite and say, “changes appearances in the light” has a bit too much interest. Overselling your intoxication is a sure-fire way to get her to fuck off without having to hurt anyone’s feelings.
“Who did the fart?“
You risked it at the bar, hoping that it would squeak out with no one realizing, and now there’s a crowd of people starting to gag and cover their mouths and noses. It’s fight or flight here. You either wait for people to realize that it was you, or you take the safe way out: cover your mouth and blame it on the best looking guy in your proximity. Two birds, one stone: you’re blame free, and you’ve eliminated some competition.
No self-respecting male genuinely believes that the day on which he was born has any impact on his personality, future, career, whatever. But very similar to any kind of social or political issue, we will jump right on board the second an opportunity to enter a lady is put on the table. My moon is shying away from the Capricorn rising sunset, which means I’m going to experience struggles this week? Fuckin’ A it is. We’ll nod our heads yes to that shit while we break our banks buying girls Vodka Crans if there’s even a hint of a possibility that at some point later in the evening we’ll be able to disappoint a girl for seven minutes straight.