There’s something I say, perhaps every week or so, and it always gets me in trouble. I’m always accused of painting with a broad brush, or being an intellectual featherweight, or engaging in asinine gender politics. It ruins conversations, and it makes my wife roll her eyes, but it’s the one moronic truism that has only become more obvious as I’ve aged, and it is this: GUYS SUCK.
I have been called out for making similar claims on this very blog, but the truth hurts: we are made of acid, brittle stucco and cheap frosting. We never ask for directions, because our moral compass is always pointing at our cock. God created Eve because he got a good look at Adam and said, “fuck, I know I can do better than that.”
Are you a happy, well-adjusted, loving, loyal guy? Congratulations. You accidentally ended up being worthwhile, but probably have no concept of how you got there. Don’t worry, I don’t either. When I look back upon my twenties and early thirties, I see a guy chasing skirt and believing the world owed him something, and then suddenly I got scared enough of solitude to contemplate marriage. Since then, I’ve learned the finer points of being a real human being from the chick I live with, and our daughter gives me a reason to attempt heroism.
Women are born with the ability to fathom true, non-crazy love – men are born with giant testicles. Seriously, have you ever seen the nuts on baby boys? The rest of the body is incidental.
I know this all makes me self-loathing, or misandrist, or that I have all kinds of unresolved daddy issues, but my take is pretty phlegmatic. I’m not railing against men, I’m just stating a general observation, the way a stegosaurus would look at his fellow stegosauri and say, “jesus, our heads are really fuckin’ small, aren’t they?”
Earlier today, my mom wrote to the family:
This whole Anthony Wiener thing has really ruined my dinner… What is it with these guys? OK, men in the family, tell me why so many men do things that are SO STUPID?
Great question. Why would a married man – who could easily be mayor of New York City, and was one of the most firebrand, outspoken progressives in Congress – send woefully inappropriate pictures to female admirers on Twitter? PICTURES on TWITTER. Photographs of your vaguely-erect schlong, uploaded BY YOU to your Twitter account and sent to somebody you barely know.
Worse yet, he didn’t even have sex, and the pictures weren’t even nude, and he didn’t even need to lie – but there he was, leaving the press conference with his head bowed in utter boyhood shame. Why’d he do it? Why did John Edwards do it? Why did Mark Foley, Larry Craig, David Vitter, Eliot Spitzer and Bill Clinton do it?
I love my male friends, and I love many of you guys reading this. I love my brothers and my nephews and my male cousins. But we are all compelled to become decent men through some outside intrusion; some figure must take pity on us, bring us on as a project, and we flourish under their tutelage.
If we’re never interrupted, or we miss a few crucial lessons, please… don’t spend time psychoanalyzing us or breathlessly repeating the idea that men in positions of power are inexorably obliged to spread their semen around. Don’t ask why we do such mind-bendingly stupid things, or why we make such self-destructive choices. We are simply guys, and, well, we suck.