A few weekends ago, the LTR and some of her friends held a little get together. A typical gab fest, where they eat a bunch of food and drink too much white wine. Oh, after then event they will tell everyone how good the food was, but they qualify it by also saying they feel guilty for going off of their perpetual diet. This little soiree was held over at Ellen’s house. Ellen and her husband Mark live in a quite suburban community with their two dogs and two children, Brian, 10 and Annie, 8.
Ellen is a bit of a ditz who sees herself as a hip, smart, strong woman feminist. All of which only has a passing resemblance to reality. In her mind, she’s hip because she has a half dozen tattoos (including ass antlers) and owns a Harley. I say owns, because she dumped the bike once and now refuses to ride it, so the bike sits in her garage. She thinks she’s smart because she follows the liberal elites and believes and supports progressive views and causes. Her strong woman feminism boils down to going on strike and not cooking or cleaning for several days twice a year. Mind you, she doesn’t have a job other than mother and homemaker. She believes she deserves special consideration for being those two things.
Ellen’s husband Mark is an interesting guy. I like him a lot even though we have little in common. He strikes me as a greater beta who can elevate his natural game when necessary. He stands about 6-feet, shaved heaad, goatee, a barrel chest and an incipent beer belly. I’ve never seen him wear anything other than jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. Mark grew up very poor and has had a job since he was a teenager. His pleasures are simple. Sports, Beer, bikes, hunting, fishing, and Xb0x. He obviously loves his kids and works hard for his family.
Ellen and Mark have been married for almost a dozen years. They met at a bar. Slept together the night they met, and eloped two weeks later. Neither of their families thought they would make it this long and both families were very critical of them. I think this may have cemented an ‘us vs. world’ bond between the two of them. Their marriage seems pretty tight (but who can really know for sure). Ellen’s got a mouth and flips him shit, Mark flips it right back at her.
The LTR asked me about a week before the event if I wanted to go with her over to Ellen’s. Since Ellen is the only married woman of the lot, I figured her husband would be the only guy there and he’d choose to spend his time in his garage. He’s got a sweet set up. Two Xbox-360’s, a 50-inch and a 32-inch HDTV, Dish network, heat lamp, and a beer refrigerator. I was game to drink his beer, play video games, and watch football.
As soon as we arrived, Mark asked me what I’d like to drink.
‘Beer,’ I stated.
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he replied, ‘I’ve got Pabst, Corona, and Heineken.’
Before I could answer, Helen pops up and says, ‘Yeah, I made him go out and get the Corona and Heineken because I know you don’t drink that cheap shit.’
I looked at her blankly and said, ‘What the fuck’s wrong with Pabst?’ I turned to Mark and said, ‘Let’s go.’
We head back to the garage and start pounding down the beer. I tell Mark that I’m feeling the urge to shoot computer generated people. He pops Grand Theft Auto San Andreas into the Xbox and away we go. I don’t typically play FPS games, but it was something to do. Mark’s son Brian came out to the garage and sat down behind us to watch. Mark’s showing me the controls and driving around like a maniac. At one point he grunts something about needing some cash so he jumps out of the car and runs over to one of the pedestrians in the game. Pulls out a pistol and shoots the guy in the head.
‘Nice shot,’ I say.
Mark laughs and glances my way. At this point he realizes that his son is sitting behind us. He turns to Brian and says, ‘We don’t really shoot people in the head, do we?’
The kid eyes get big and round and he shakes his head in the negative.
I looked at Brian and said, ‘That’s right. We shoot them in the knee. That way it’s not attempted murder.’ What the heck do I know. I’m on my sixth beer and feeling good.
A short while later, Mark gets a text message. He looks at his phone and mutters, ‘Fucking pussy. I am not talking to you on my day off!’
‘What’s that about?’ I ask.
‘Aw, man, I got this guy who works for me and he such a fucking baby. A couple of weeks ago he got into a fight on the shop floor. One of the other guys called him a faggot and he retaliated by punching the guy. Since I’m the shop manager, I got to break it up.’ said Mark, ‘I told them both that I didn’t care who started it, they were both suspended without pay for the rest of the week. Then this pussy files a grievance with the Union against me for the suspension. When he finds out that that’s not going to work, he files a workman’s comp claim and says he needs knee surgery. He’s out for two more weeks WITH pay. Little fucker!’
‘Sounds like the guy’s trying to work the system,’ I replied.
‘Yeah. grown men should not act like little children. I hate it when a man acts like a woman. I really just want to beat the shit out of them.’
‘Yep. I know what you mean,’ I said. We stopped playing the Xbox at this point and switched over to football. We talked a little more after that, but mostly we just drank ourselves into oblivion.
My tolerance for men who act counter to their nature has worn thin. It’s not just women that need a good dose of shaming. Men who choose to act like women need to be shamed too. Anyone else with me on this?
