Men. Despite what some people may say, we’re not a complex breed.
Keep us fed, watered and supplied with things we enjoy, be it football on the telly, the poetry of William Blake or tits (we can be quite diverse in our tastes) and we’re quite happy. Plonk a lady (or another bloke- we don’t discriminate here at TWTN) in front of us and add a vague possibility of having sex with said lady (or man) and we may even produce beautiful music, paintings, architecture and literature.
That being so, it can get a little grating when advertisers portray us as moronic adult-sized babies that without female supervision fuck up tasks the average eleven-year-old can manage to pull off with ease…
*I would quickly like to acknowledge that being British, male and white, I realise that claiming misrepresentation by the media is a bit like Bill Gates crying about losing a tenner, but I needed to pad out this introduction a bit. It’s done now, let’s all be grown up about it and move on.*
Anyway, I think the point I wasn’t getting to quickly was that while we all generalise and stereotype genders, races, classes and every other aspect of human existence, the common male stereotypes are wrong. We don’t all like football, beer, tits and steak. The real stereotypes are much more abstract than that.
So, without further waffle, your man may be faulty if:
When near a flat body of water he doesn’t try to skim a stone
No, not try- DOES skim a stone. And then lies about about how many times it bounced because he is actually a bit shit at it…
That could just be me though… Look, it’s because I’m left handed, right- all the stones are made right-handed. It’s a fucking conspiracy, I tells ya.
He chooses to pick up and throw back a stray football
I mean- who does that? Even if you’ve got your crispy new super-ridiculously-expensive-could’ve-bought-a-car-for-that-much-money shoes on you still boot the fucker back, don’t you? It’s a natural reaction, no matter how rubbish you are at kicking things.
If you’re with a bloke who doesn’t shape up to kick the ball back to its owners as soon as he sees it coming his way, be suspicious- he probably enjoys… umm… I dunno, weird sex like… bagpiping or something equally hilarious. (You realise you can’t unlearn that now, don’t you?)
No! You kick the ball. Kick it.
He hasn’t mastered one simple recipe, which he refers to as ‘his special’ whatever it is
Usually chilli… Actually ALWAYS chilli. And it will look like every appliance and utensil in the kitchen was used in the process after he’s done.
Expect excessive compliment fishing and seemingly endless self-promotion too- no matter how many times he says it though, it probably won’t be the greatest chilli you ever tasted. Just go mmmm- there’s nothing wrong with a bit of ego stroking every now and then.
He doesn’t spend a considerable amount of time with his hands on his hips staring at the flames when at a BBQ
Even if he just does it once, as he arrives, that’s fine.
If he’s in control of the BBQ and he chooses to cook the chicken in the oven before ‘giving it a minute on the coals to get some flavour’, then he may still be a man, but he definitely is a gutless prick.
How fucking hard is it to cook chicken? Moron. If you get salmonella, you deserve it.
He doesn’t have a friend called Dave who knows about stuff
My Dave fixes cars. He knows what drinks will get you shitfaced and empty your wallet quickest too. He’s also a bit of a dick (in case he reads this and thinks I’m being nice).
What does your Dave do?
He chooses to walk to the bin and put things in it when they could be thrown in
Again- who the fuck does that?
Double man-points if he misses, gets up, goes over to the bin and picks up his rubbish…
Then returns to his seat and has another go.
Top boy.