Alright small following; I’m trashed so please forgive me if this is not grammatically correct. And no, it’s not a baseball post but damn it; it’s February so let us slide by with some bullshit.
I was at the bar tonight and this occurrence came to pass again–it was roughly the 100th time that it’s came about and I decided that since every dude like me out there has been through it I would scribe about it on the very pages of Diamond Hoggers.
Everything is going great. You’re taking shots of Crown Royal (The Official Drink of Diamond Hoggers), you’re catching a buzz. That belly of yours is starting to burn. This means you are getting as drunk as Cooter Brown, son. You’re shooting pool, in fact. You’ve just sunk three stripes in a row to lead off the game. You’re on top of the world. Hulk out your chest you strong son of a bitch.
Then your woman comes over to you and starts talking to you about your boy’s girlfriend/friend/girl he is going to bag that night. She just met her; and the girl happened to be caught on a good day and was actually friendly back. Probably even complimentary on the top your girl was wearing. Maybe she told your boy to save your girl a spot on the couch that they were sitting on to begin the night. Fuck, maybe they’re even from the same state. But whatever it was, they’re now suddenly perfect together. Even if you know your boy was getting blown by some other hizzie weeks ago.
Fuck yes, they’re perfect together.
They’re perfect together because you’ve got no fewer than six to eight vodka and sodas in you. They’re perfect together because it’s Saturday night; and who the fuck doesn’t love everything about a Saturday night!
They’ve just met, and now you’ve got them booked for marriage. Invite them to our wedding. Schedule double dates. Pick out children’s names. Start swapping recipes. Because for fucks sakes: they’re perfect together!
I don’t know what the deal is as a guy. I know I’ve heard this phrase more than 25; actually probably around 50 times in my life. You know if you’re reading this that you have heard that shit too. How often is it true? Female hormone’s read on this is very poor. We’ll see what happens but most times John and Sally don’t work out. You say that they’re perfect for each other–and I’m thinking that they’re perfect for each other alright. For that night.
Guys know this shit. Girls think that every time one of your boys has his arm around a girl that… it’s forever! The truth is, no matter how complimentary Jessica-come-lately was of the top or what state she is from–my boy might decide to go prowl on something else. It’s just the way that most of my boys are wired. Especially when Bud Light is being wired into their veins by the masses.
I just had to get this out there. When you hear “They’re perfect together” and you take another large swig (through a straw) of your strong drink to get through this girl-speak I want you to know that you’re not alone. It is bullshit girl-speak and I want you to pay it no mind. It’s part of man code that we mention nothing of it. We don’t think that way. do you understand me?
I’m going to get all kinds of Google searches of ‘they’re perfect together’ and want to murder myself when I read the traffic report but whatever. What I say is the truth!