Friday, July 01, 2005

The Male Animal...

Vanessa here...

What is it about guys when they're around each other? They turn into these...creatures. Not human at all. It's more...animal. I saw it waiting for the train this morning.

They circle as they eyeball each other. Then they approach, warily. Then, confidently and cocky. Like a rooster with its chest held high. There's recognition...acceptance into the personal space. A chest bump. A slap of palms together in the air in a fist pumping high five. They try not to see too affectionate, but it's there...you can see it. The bonding of the males.



Their language is fraught with "dude" and "bud" and "man" and "bro" with a lot of "shit" and "fuck" sprinkled in for good measure. They have a propensity to hock up a massive loogie and spit it onto the empty train track. Then the other one does the same. What's it with guys and spitting? Does the mass of the loogie represent penis size? Someone please explain this to me.

They sit together (not too close -- always an empty seat [no male-on-male touchingbetween them as they spread out) on the train, facing off. The next twenty minutes is spent one upping each other with work accomplishments, golf games, construction projects and oh yes...the conquering of many, many women. (The women are never ugly or homely...they're always described as sex pots and babes.)

All the while, there's many adjustment to the clothing. Picking at the t-shirt, adjusting the tie, pulling up the waistband of the pants. And...playing a little pocket pool. (Why can't guys keep their hands away from their penises in public?!)

Most of them dress like they don't care. Very little grooming. (Obviously, they haven't watched the last two seasons of Queer Eye.) Scruffy beards, mussed up hair. T-shirts and shorts are the dress of choice and you can always depend on one of them to have dirty hair and a backwards (Red Sox) cap on.

And we women are supposed to swoon over these men?

I know...I know...I'm asking too much to find a nice guy who doesn't scratch himself or spit who knows how to match his clothes up and take a shower every day. Maybe I should lower my expectations. Hmmm...maybe not.

I know the perfect guy is out there. After all...I'm an optimist!

Happy Fourth of July weekend, everyone...maybe I'll find Mr. Right this weekend? :)

Hang loose,
Double Vee

5 Comments:

Anonymous j said...

i've never scratched or played with myself in public. i leave that to the confines of my bathroom. ;-)

10:19 AM  
Blogger Elizabeth Kerri Mahon said...

What about the guys who sit with their legs open, like they're advertising on the train, 'look what I've got!' Hey, whatever you're selling, I'm not buying.

11:26 AM  
Blogger Vanessa Virtue said...

Oh yeah! Especially when you're sitting in a corner and you feel like you're trapped in their widespread legs! Do they do that in New York too?

5:25 PM  
Blogger Michele said...

I used to work with a guy who played pocket pool (never heard that description before LOL) all during work hours. We often discussed it and came to the conclusion that he didn't even know he was doing it. Since it was a stressful job, we think it was an unconscious comfort impulse.
I guess the question is...when did he figure out that doing it gave him "comfort"? And how often does a guy have to do that for it to become such an ingrained habit? The big BIG question....do we really want to know? NOT!

5:35 PM  
Blogger Bearette24 said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

5:28 PM  

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