When Men Become Pussies

Everyone has THAT friend.

The one that brags about wearing the pants, about how he lives his life without surrendering to anyone and who continuously reminds you that his penis is the re-incarnation of some unknown Greek God – Enormoustheus.

I have a friend and his name is Blaque. If you’ve been religiously following the blog, you’d be familiar with him. In the instance where you might need a refresher, he was the one that took me on the 2 hour car ride and the one that had a problem staying sober for his birthday celebrations.

It’s always funny how men, well the grave majority of them, are denominated so depreciatively whenever they are in a relationship. They giggle like school girls having their first condom fitting class, they baby talk as if they lost a tongue and suddenly every word has to be repeated twice over.

“Dear dear, I miss miss you.”

If I hear this from you, you will be laughed at. In addition, I will threaten to cut off your testicles and sell them to Vietnamese soup restaurants or I’ll donate it to the handicap children for them to play fooseball with.

Now, the age-old question remains. When does a man lose his soul?

1. When he orders a nuclear strike on an innocent village.
2. When he kicks handicap children for leisure.
3. When he obeys everything his girlfriend says.

If you picked option 3, you are a genius and you should run for Presidency. You might also be Osama, but the important thing is getting the answer right.

For the ill-informed or those fortunate enough NOT to be personally acquainted with him, a brief run down is just what the doctor ordered.

To begin with, Blaque’s girlfriend never really got along with us well. She was the kind of girl that never made an effort to ‘blend’ in with the boys and always made it clear to Blaque that his priority list should be written by her. The world she dictates for him is ruled by dichotomy (She’s right, everyone else is wrong) and despotic authority. If you need to kill a fascist, you are allowed to throw stones at her.

Her lack of initiative, manners and over-riding list of flaws is however, met with cordial receptions on my end. I don’t hate her, but this girl doesn’t even have redeeming qualities like ‘looks’, ‘boobs’ or ‘hot ass’ to save her from my wrath. The only thing she has between me and my master hand throwing an uppercut at her, is Blaque.

It always pains me to see my friends erode all sense of integrity and self-value and submit (coerced or voluntarily) to every whim and fancy of their girlfriends. Piss them off and suddenly, you’re no longer her ‘Daddy Kitten’ and you’re back to being addressed on full name basis. You only need to recite your IC number at this roll call and I swear this would qualify as a detention barrack.

You see, you can subscribe to baby talking and bitch giggling and I won’t have any less respect for you as a man. Sure, I’ll laugh and tease, but you generally will not find me spitting at you intentionally.

The day you start losing the ability to make decisions for yourself, you have successfully completed the pussy transformation and all this without even surgical procedures. Welcome to Changi Village. I hope you enjoy your stay. Now, please bend over.

This is when men become pussies.

Every once in awhile you need to learn to say ‘no’. Tighten your Ho’ hand and swing it across their face (do remember to flick your wrist on impact), if they threaten to sulk or insist that you comply. The neutralist in me is emphasizing that this retaliation is trans-gendered.

I’m more forgiving if you have issues saying ‘no’ if you are a girl and you tend to submit to your man’s demands. That’s cos you are a girl and when you start brawling, you are going to end up on the losing end. Unless of course you happen to be conveniently carrying around nunchuckus or brass knuckles, then by all means, say ‘no’ all you want, even if they offer to pay for the meal.

I however, have no interest to address the cries of miserable women trapped in hellish relationships. The feminist in me is dormant today, so you are better off watching Oprah. I am today the harbinger of scorn for men who have lost their ability to make decisions on their own.

Firstly, any girl who stops you from meeting your friends whom you’ve not met up for in ages, is a witch. If I had my way and the McCarthy era still prevailed, I’ll suggest you burn her on a stake.

What fuck of a girlfriend would ever deny you time with friends? Raise your hand if you said, “a witch”. You get a point for that. If you mispronounced and shouted “Bitch”, you get two.

I was disgusted with Blaque for succumbing to his girl’s demand that he was not allowed to celebrate my birthday with me. He even had me speak to her on video call and she actually demanded, verbatim,

She: “NO, HE CANNOT GO! HE MUST COME HOME NOW!”

When I saw how Blaque tried to pacify her, I knew he had auction off his testicles. When he actually told me he couldn’t go because she didn’t want him to, I knew it went for $0.75 and it’s currently being used as bait for piranha fishing. Blaque had sold his soul and his life to some skanky anorexic buck toothed scarecrow.

I’m serious. If you put her in front of the Roman cathedral, you won’t even have to worry about pigeon droppings. If she stood at the vegetables section long enough, you’d wonder if the supermarket was having crow problems, that they needed to arrest the problem with a scarecrow.

I hope she reads this.

Secondly, if you give up your friends for your girlfriend, don’t expect us to be entirely thrilled when you have a relationship crisis and need your friends to pull you through. Sure, we’ll be there. Only just so that we can talk trash about your girl at the only time that you'll be in parallel acquiesce with me in referring to her as ‘That bitch’.

Lastly, since when did being in a relationship mean surrendering your rights to make decisions. Relationships thin the emotional fabric of people. You become so dependent that you sometimes naturalize yourself into believing it is ok to sacrifice friends. To exacerbate this disillusion, you submit even when you really don’t want to.

I was pissed at Blaque because as much as he really wanted to join us, he chose to go home to get his dick sucked by some Bugs Bunny reject. Or maybe he went back to suck her dick.

And he has even proposed to her. Reznor and I are thrilled because if they ever make it to the altar, I get to give him a carrot for a wedding gift and Reznor will probably be getting her the straw hat since it can get pretty hot while standing out in the fields all day.

When men surrender their sovereignty of choice, they lose the very axiom of being a man. If you constantly submit to your partner even against your will or interest, you will be laughed at. Maybe your friends are already laughing, but I will join in. Go wear a skirt, cut off your balls and prepare to suck dick for a living. You’d probably find more redemption this way.