I’m trying to be more masculine, these days. So, I’ve been hitting the gym, wearing dog tags, politely asking women if they would like to be catcalled and proceeding to so, but only if they’re in the mood and have given me explicit consent – I think that’s still butch. But most importantly, I don’t just watch sports anymore. Now, I make sure to wear my favorite team’s jersey and throw a football – to no one in particular, because I do most things alone, and it doesn’t really matter what I’m watching.
Men’s figure skating? Fuck yes, I’ll throw a football to that! Punch my best friend in the arm like, “Check that triple axle, nigga! Shiiit!” Synchronized diving? I’ll pound my chest and a Heineken; throw the bottle right on the floor too, cause fuck carpets, bro.
And here’s a real bro tip for you: I recently learned you can open two bottles at once, if you align the caps just right and pull in opposite directions, like two bros completing a slap-shake while declaring “no homo.” So, the next time you’re at a party with your best bro, grab a Bud for you and your bud. Align those caps, and look him right in the eye, and notice how the light shimmers off his iris, like a fine amber ale, and allow yourself to be drawn in by the obsidian abyss of his pupils, like two black holes about to collide with your own, sending cosmic waves deep into the very fabric of space and time. Let it take you back to the times you spent out on the field – your hands cupped between his thick, veiny thighs like two great tree trunks carved by the very hands of God. Or back in the locker room, snapping his tight, firm, athletic buttocks with a towel, after a well-deserved shower.
And as your eyes make their way down to his parched lips, pop those bottles open, and throw both them bitches on the floor, cause fuck carpets, bro. No homo!