I Do Not Currently, Nor Will I Ever, Understand Male Bonding
I just do not understand blokes. Last night in the pub, I was having a nice quiet chat with Mrs. Toad and Alex Cornish, and this chap who was sitting at the bar turned around and started swearing at her. More to the point, given Mrs. Toad was bemoaning her recently-disclosed Irish ancestry, he started swearing at her. After a bit I inevitably did the protective male thing and told him to shut the fuck up and not to speak to her like that again, that we were sorry if we offended him, hadn’t intended to do so and apologised if we had, but that he was out of line and should shut his trap. Firm and to the point, with a little bit of macho bluster, I think you’d describe it.
Anyway, he continued to scowl at us and on two more occasions tried to spark something off again, although with me this time. It was all very typical ‘Do you want to take this outside’ versus ‘No, not really, but if you’re really feeling confident come over here and have a go and stop fucking talking about it’ sort of stuff. It was infantile, but what the fuck do you do in such situations, back down and apologise?
Anyway, after the latest bout of ‘my dad could take your dad’ bollocks he buggered off to the toilet and then, when he came back, made a not entirely unfriendly comment about the fact that Mrs. Toad had The Sun open on the bar next to her. From this, he sort of started talking to us and quickly became incredibly friendly. I don’t think Alex or Mrs. Toad were all that keen on fisticuffs to begin with, and I certainly had no real desire for a punch-up so we pretty much reciprocated and ended up talking to the guy for a couple of hours.
He was a decent enough bloke, under all the nonsense. An English teacher with a real passion for literature, particularly American, and particularly their simple, economical novellas. I thought he was going to hug me when I asked if he liked Paul Auster. By the end of the evening when he went home because he had to be up early for school it was as if we were all the best of friends.
Fucking bizarre. And the weird thing is that this sort of thing has happened to me on numerous occasions – picking fights with opposing players on the football pitch, nose to nose shouting matches with kitchen porters in the Glasgow Hilton who just got out of fucking Barlinnie earlier that afternoon, pissing contests with alpha male cool types during my uni years – it seems to be an established way for blokes to make friends. As Mrs. Toad said, had that happened between two women there would have been a long and simmering grudge that both of them would have happily waited years to settle. With blokes, if I see that bloke the next time I’m in the same pub, I guess we’ll share a few pints as if nothing ever happened.
What the fuck is going on there? Attempted bullying? PIssing contest? Emotional retardation trying to reach out and make friends, just going about it in a strange way? I fucking do not understand male bonding, I really don’t.
Alex Cornish – Scotland the Brave
Art Brut – Fight!
A cunt is only as deep as it is wide, my boy. We men contain a hair trigger connected to our puff chest & bleat mode for no other reason than it’s a release of feral spunk. If there’s an opportunity to feel superior, especially when loosened by the devil’s juice, we will take it like the offer of a no strings fuck in a postcode far, far away.
Men have an odd habit of wanting to piss their name in the snow or up a tall wall. Its the equivalent of cats fighting over who falls alseep in the sun first & apes scratching their arseholes red raw for the sake of reminding each other they have them.
Territorial pissing & chest beating. Marvelous.
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form & moving how express & admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals — & yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me — nor woman neither.
Mrs. Toad’s Irish?!
Who’d have thought it?..
Could be worse though, at least she’s not English..
Are you starting, Welsh boy?
Er, actually that should read Welsh boys
Am I running some sort of UK minority refuge here or something?
It would appear so! Ha!
I forgot to say I also met Mia Farrow at the UN last week. Very charming, she was, if a lot smaller/slight(er ?) than I imagined. She was puffing her small chest in an International pissing contest & she appeared to at least be winning the moral argument.
The bit I don’t get is the transition, so quickly, from ‘going to bash your head in’ to absolute and total best of friends. It’s almost like there’s a sudden and complete disconnect.
If you were in prison & had had that conversation, you’d be Mommy by now…
“he started swearing at her” -and Matthew, you the man of more fucks than anyone in your (wonderful) blog find that a differentiation from normal speech? Sorry, couldn’t resist; my first day back to you after my nine year old showed me the “Fuck Me…” title the other day and I took my bat home. Keep up the great work on the music. Thanks.
Without wishing to sound incredibly old-fashioned, I will not tolerate anyone being aggressive towards Mrs. Toad. Not on, not acceptable, not going to happen. Of course occasionally I will get a kicking for this, but I don’t really mind that. Someone being abusive to my midget companion on the other hand is not going unanswered, beating or not.
Fuck the cunt. Swearing is one thing, but swearing directly at someone in a physically aggressive manner is entirely different. If he reckons he can back that sort of bollocks up with a bit of spirit then good luck to the fucker, but you can’t go being physically intimidating towards somebody that someone cares about without expecting to be called out on it.
I am not having Mrs, Toad threatened. Not by anyone.
I totally agree on the violence / agressive behaviour – I should have made that point: sorry
I’ve just re-read that I should say I totally agree with your stance of course!
It sounds so stupid, but that’s how it happens. The weirdest thing for me was how quickly things changed from ‘let’s go outside to settle this’ to ‘we’re such great mates’. And not only that, but this scenario seems to happen so often.