So, uh there is studious intellectual discussion that the Man-o-sphere should be renamed the Cocktogon to avoid sounding “gay.”
Well, there’s some ole metal band called Manowar and they are so-not-gay, if you don’t believe me, there is a video proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the case….
and if that’s not enough, it’s not like the paragon of masculinity, with his leather and spikes and his motorcycle on stage is gay. Who could evar imagine that Rob Halford is gay, oh, wait….
…it’s kinda like that time you found that discreet “sex party” on Craigslist. Y’know that one where you had to pay a $50 donation at the door and the only rules were that when a woman says no it’s no and what goes on at Club Sex stays at Club Sex. At first you were disappointed at the horrific male-to-female ratio. Then you were cool with it when the tatt’d rocker chick sat between you and the buff marine corps dude at the makeshift bar. She invited you both “upstairs.” At first, both you and the marine were like “let’s see what happens.” Then you got really scared when she mentioned that she likes to watch guys with guys. You were hoping that the rough and tumble jarhead who gave you dirty looks a few moments earlier would have the same look of horror when your eyes met–instead, he gave you a warm smile. Thank gawd for whiskey dick and the fact that you had those two whole Rolling Rocks over the course of ninety minutes. Good thing it didn’t even have to go that far–you’re fast thinking on your feet. You stated “I forgot my condoms in the car” only to run out the door and never come back…
…or maybe it’s more like the time you decided to check out that clothing optional beach during the summer heat wave. You could’ve played it cool and found a deserted area and slowly discovered if the clothesfree lifestyle is right for you. Instead, being the erudite guy you are, you discreetly tailed those three cute girls and set up 25 feet away. In about 10 minutes, the area that was lightly crowded is now packed with you, 20 other guys and the three broads. You’ve been reading your Roissy and your Roosh–they haven’t provided any “tactics” for such a situation but you realize that with no approach, there will be no victory. You shyly walk over au naturel and ask, “Do you have any sunscreen, I forgot mine.” One of the girls shreiks and covers herself up, the one with sunglasses just ignores you and the slightly chubby one says sarcastically, “Didn’t cub scouts teach you to always be prepared?” You walk back to your towel with your shoulders hunched over. The guy accross from you walks over and asks for a cig with the same response. Another guy asks for “the time” and gets the cold shoulder. Finally, a surfer approaches and the girl with the sunglasses gets giddy and laughs at everything he says. He eventually excuses himself to catch some waves.
You could leave at this point, there’s still that deserted stretch of beach 500 feet up. But you don’t. The girls get up and start walking to the water. All of their “fans,” now closer to 30 guys follow like walking dead zombies. You could stay at your towel or still go over to the deserted section. Instead you follow the zombies and the girls. Finally, the girls get out of the water. You follow with the rest of the zombies.
As you lay on your towel, eyes still glued to the ladies, you become aware of the sound of heavy breathing penetrating the sound of crashing waves. Your unsure whether it is yours or the guy who is 3 feet away from you. You’ve already invested this much time and you have your spot. You may feel “uncomfortable” but you dare not leave at this point. The girls pack their belongings at break neck speed. One last guy, an older fellow with a huge belly and a dark tan spits some game. The girls keep on walking and one says curtly “Bye.” Your standing with thirty odd guys, some with their heads down, a few sporting erections. You could’ve chosen the deserted section but you didn’t…..