Measuring Contests: At any point in time, if someone walks into a living room with five guys in it and says the words, dude, look at this girl I got with last night, as he pops open her Instagram page up, there is a Finding Nemo seagull esque reaction where every guy in that room feels obligated to flex a girl who they’ve hooked up with. Like if one of my friends walked into a room while we were all watching the Mavs lose and said check her out, got with her last night, the guy next to him would react by saying something along the lines of damnnn man. She’s so bad. She’s methodist right? Dude, that’s crazy because the guy that started Methodism is from this town in England where my friend’s cousin lives. And one time, when I was in ninth grade, she and I went bowling together, where I met another girl who goes to USF and is a Gymshark model, and the proceed to pull up her Instagram. It’s a domino effect of guys needing to assert dominance, and it’s weird as fuck.
Birthdays: Aside from turning 21, Birthdays are just embarrassing. I appreciate people who wish me a happy birthday, and I love getting free shit, but it’s weird to walk around as people congratulate you for surviving another year. I feel like no guy knows how to react to people wishing him a “Happy Birthday” because it’s embarrassing to get that much attention out of nowhere. Yesterday you were just another guy, but now you have to adjust to twenty-four hours as a Superstar because your Dad got drunk, and then nines month later, your Mom did all the work years ago.
The Terror of Narbs: This past weekend, I was visiting my best friend of ten years and had to end up sleeping in his bed one night, and I woke up in the morning with sheer terror. He woke me up, and thank god he went to go take a shit because I was NARBing. The pain of NARBS is a phenomenon that just doesn’t get talked about enough. I’ve had NARBs at funerals while getting gut-wrenching news and lying beside my dying childhood dog. I’m sure I would miss them if they went away, but it’s not really convenient when your homie who lives in your body’s basement wants to play ball out of nowhere.
How Different We All Act Around Girls: Obviously, you have to switch things up a little bit when you’re around girls. Not every woman named Heather wants to hear me rant about the Banana Massacre of 1928, and I totally get that. Guys that don’t switch it up around girls even a little bit are socially inept people. On the other hand, if you’re one of those people who acts completely different when girls are around, you suck.