Depends on the age of the guy. An 18-year-old will fuck anything that moves, plus any inanimate object without thorns, so there’s no point in telling him. An older guy might like some advanced warning so that he can say, “Oh that’s OK, I’ll bring a pizza and a bottle of cheap wine and we can just cuddle and watch the football game.” Feel free to blow him in gratitude for him being so awesome.
Guys don’t like to talk. So we will seize upon any form of non-verbal communication to express our feelings. Non-verbal communication may take the form of not talking, not texting, not liking or not commenting on social media posts. It all goes back to prehistoric times when we would express displeasure with the female by going back into the cave and growling at the female if she approached. This was deemed more socially acceptable than hitting her on the head with a club.
You should go on Survivor. Never bathe or brush your teeth, wear the same clothes every day, take dumps in the ocean, stab everyone in the back, and get paid a million dollars for it.
Two guys can know each other for a lifetime, be best friends, be Eskimo brothers, nurse each other through addictions and breakups, have debts that are never repayed, be Best Man at each other’s wedding, godfather to each other’s children, and there is no fucking way they would ever in a thousand years share a bathroom stall.
It’s just too much work. There’s no way I’m gonna go through all the bathroom selfies, hotel room selfies, dinner with the friends selfies, selfies with the little, selfies with the big, pictures of food, coffee, shoes, dogs, cats, pumpkins… I’ll like or comment on one now and then just to keep my hand in, but I’m really not gonna work the problem.
See, this is the difference between TSM and TFM. The folks at TFM would turn off the comments so that no one could make a snarky comment about only losers wearing a Rowdy Gentleman sweatshirt.
Sororities may be gay, but fraternities are not. Just because we live in a house full of men, shower together, do elephant walks, play soggy biscuit, wear pastel clothes including bow ties and shorts with tiny inseams, and think the volleyball scene is the best part of Top Gun, that doesn’t make us gay. No way.
Yesterday I was in an elevator and I looked down at my shoes and there was one of those fabric softener dryer sheets hanging out of my pants leg. It looked just like toilet paper and I had been walking around like that all day. I just wanted to get that off my chest.
I don’t understand why people “meet for coffee” on the first date. It’s like, “Hey, let’s give ourselves bad breath right off the bat! That’s always a great way to start a relationship!”
Hey, Ronnie, the writing on this site is way more better than the shit they post on TFM. I actually read these articles and — whoa whoa stop the clock — Selena and The Bieb are back together? Sorry, gotta go tell my SO about this.
How to get banned from the Hockey house:
Loudly announce that Bobby Orr was an overrated, one-dimensional player, then challenge the first person who drunkenly disagrees to explain the icing rule. When he stumbles (which he will, since no one understands the icing rule) condescendingly point out that he knows absolutely nothing about hockey and should therefore sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.
The “awesome” part was supposed to be sarcasm.
Depends on the age of the guy. An 18-year-old will fuck anything that moves, plus any inanimate object without thorns, so there’s no point in telling him. An older guy might like some advanced warning so that he can say, “Oh that’s OK, I’ll bring a pizza and a bottle of cheap wine and we can just cuddle and watch the football game.” Feel free to blow him in gratitude for him being so awesome.
So the next time I get the “What Are We” text, I should respond with a picture of my butthole?
Guys don’t like to talk. So we will seize upon any form of non-verbal communication to express our feelings. Non-verbal communication may take the form of not talking, not texting, not liking or not commenting on social media posts. It all goes back to prehistoric times when we would express displeasure with the female by going back into the cave and growling at the female if she approached. This was deemed more socially acceptable than hitting her on the head with a club.
You should go on Survivor. Never bathe or brush your teeth, wear the same clothes every day, take dumps in the ocean, stab everyone in the back, and get paid a million dollars for it.
You shouldn’t be shocked. There was obviously a spark between them.
Two guys can know each other for a lifetime, be best friends, be Eskimo brothers, nurse each other through addictions and breakups, have debts that are never repayed, be Best Man at each other’s wedding, godfather to each other’s children, and there is no fucking way they would ever in a thousand years share a bathroom stall.
Using the peach emoji isn’t unsexy. Using the donkey emoji is unsexy.
God would never have bothered to say “Thou shalt not covet” if He had known that Facebook and Instagram were coming down the road.
Before I commit to banging the dog, I need to know if it’s male or female. I’m not a prevert.
It’s just too much work. There’s no way I’m gonna go through all the bathroom selfies, hotel room selfies, dinner with the friends selfies, selfies with the little, selfies with the big, pictures of food, coffee, shoes, dogs, cats, pumpkins… I’ll like or comment on one now and then just to keep my hand in, but I’m really not gonna work the problem.
See, this is the difference between TSM and TFM. The folks at TFM would turn off the comments so that no one could make a snarky comment about only losers wearing a Rowdy Gentleman sweatshirt.
I’ve never blown a dude and if that makes me a Prude then I’m happy to accept the sobriquet.
Sororities may be gay, but fraternities are not. Just because we live in a house full of men, shower together, do elephant walks, play soggy biscuit, wear pastel clothes including bow ties and shorts with tiny inseams, and think the volleyball scene is the best part of Top Gun, that doesn’t make us gay. No way.
Yesterday I was in an elevator and I looked down at my shoes and there was one of those fabric softener dryer sheets hanging out of my pants leg. It looked just like toilet paper and I had been walking around like that all day. I just wanted to get that off my chest.
I don’t understand why people “meet for coffee” on the first date. It’s like, “Hey, let’s give ourselves bad breath right off the bat! That’s always a great way to start a relationship!”
Hey, Ronnie, the writing on this site is way more better than the shit they post on TFM. I actually read these articles and — whoa whoa stop the clock — Selena and The Bieb are back together? Sorry, gotta go tell my SO about this.
Regarding the hat, would a sombrero work? What about a yarmulke? Would that make me more attractive?
How to get banned from the Hockey house:
Loudly announce that Bobby Orr was an overrated, one-dimensional player, then challenge the first person who drunkenly disagrees to explain the icing rule. When he stumbles (which he will, since no one understands the icing rule) condescendingly point out that he knows absolutely nothing about hockey and should therefore sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.
Tough crowd.