Player Hater

I intentionally labelled this entry the way I did for several reasons. First, to mislead and confuse...because that's just the kind of person I am. Secondly (well, it's basically the same as a reason, but for some reason, everything sounds better when made into a list), because of the many different ways the term "player" could be interpreted. Much to some of  your dismay, I am not going to relate any of my philosophies regarding dating. I'm probably never going to give a look into that mode of thinking I currently occupy. This entry will be detailing my thoughts regarding male sports habits.

This could be linked to my previous post about the constant need of testosterone filled males to prove their manliness when around the women folk.

Something I have been paying particular heed to is vocal tendencies of he-men. I would like to point out that I, on purpose, called them he-men instead of just men. Let me explain why. The difference between a he-man and just a normal man is first (LISTSSSSS!), He-man is an awesome cartoon. nuff said. Secondly, a he-man (outside the specific antithesis of Skeletor), is someone who is not just a man because that explanation in and of itself would come nowhere near the level of manliness inherently contained within this individual's frame. Instead, there comes the need to affix the title he, as if to reinforce the gender non-neutrality of this person. There can never be any confusion as to how much of a man this man is, therefore, we will call him a he-man....or a Male-man (not to be confused with the rejected superhero proposed in the late 70's to Marvel Comics*. ) Either description is just redundant enough to get the point across.

Moving on: there exists a culture amongst most males that I will term as Blinders. In the most extreme case, it would come about as a result of some fierce rage provoked by someone shooting spit wads all high-school-like at a man's face. Other causes may include: stealing a burrito, giving cock-eyed, sidelong glares, a swift kick in the groin, or getting killed five times in a row by the same guy who keeps camping and you can never quite seem to find. Symptoms may include: increased vulgarity in speech, excessively red face, visible fuming, or even possible heart attack.

Here's how it happens**. A group of guys is hanging out with a group of moderately-very attractive women (let's face it, it may sound harsh but if we're around girls we think are ugly, fugly, or even pug fugly, this won't happen). It'll start out by a moderately obvious battle for attention with colloquial conversation. One guy will tell a joke, and then another will try to one up the previous by adding on to the joke. From there, it could go to talking about any number of more refined topics, like sports (yes, refined) or politics. The males, if in disagreement, will attempt to assert their dominance in the conversation either by belittling the other with quips or sarcasm (that's my personal favorite tactic), or by the decibel at which he makes his comments. At that point, one will go to get a drink of water or something of that nature. Given the right circumstances, like in a large crowd and if the one guy has to walk past or even over the other to get out, the person being passed will make a half-hearted jab at the leg or something (to be funny). At that point, the other may retaliate with a quick kick (also joking), but at that point, here come the blinders. The face will turn red, and the unabashed wrestling match begins.

When all is said and done, who wins? Now that's not really an answer for which I can ascribe a generalization. By some strange twist of fate, it turns out that some girls like that. Then again, some girls swoon over sparkley (turns out sparkley isn't in my browsers dictionary. That's frustrating) vampires that don't know how to act, and that's just another one of life's mysteries that I will never understand. It also turns out that, even more shockingly, some people find it disgusting when I pour mounds of easy cheese, at least three times the size of the Wheat Thin*** it's on, and proceed to dump it into my mouth. I think it's blissful. I don't get why others say it's "gross" or "unbecoming" or "satanic". I figure if it tastes somewhat like cheese, it must be cheese. I'm just saying. Getting back on track, some girls find it amusing. I think it's...for lack of a better word, nature. Perhaps some justify it in their mind that they're in some, strange way, expressing their love of nature by embracing some of the more carnal (I mean violent, not lustful) habits. I just think it's ridiculous. Anyway, those are the blinders.

Some of you may be asking the question that I find myself asking..myself...right now. "What is the point of this blog entry?" If you're asking that, you clearly need to stop reading this for any informative value. Just accept my mindless nonsense for what it is (mindless nonsense) and move on with life...and possible make me a cake. I will also accept cookies or sandwiches....or pudding.

That is all.

*Marvel has no affiliation with The Cold Side of the Pillow or any of its subsidiaries.
**As a general rule, these occurrences could happen sequentially, but they don't necessarily need to happen that way. Any one of these could come about                       unprovoked.
***Wheat Thins are in nowise affiliated with The Cold Side of the Pillow or any of its subsidiaries.