Don’t be a Douche: A Barroom Manifesto

by 5 years ago

Neither my friend nor my other friend’s brother were the inspiration for this article because they act like normal people. No, the almighty douchecanoe at the heart of this piece is said older brother’s roommate, a human who should be sterilized immediately.

His name was Goyle or Doyle or something insignificant—basically, he exists simply because he can.

To vividly describe the condescension and “I-don’t-give-a-fuck” unintelligence this kid exhibited, I’ll contrast him with how a normal 20-something dude would be at a pregame:

Exhibit A: Normal dude would wear a flannel/long-sleeve button up because it’s late December and fuckin’ freezing out. Our buddy Doyle wears a short-sleeve bright pink t-shirt probably so he could draw as much unsolicited attention as possible.

Exhibit B: Normal dude would wear khakis because, again, it’s the middle of winter. Old pal Boyle wears these pink, yellow, and green tie-dye/1980s workout shorts that could also be mistaken for a netted bathing suit. Whatever, he’s dressed like a douche but doesn’t necessarily act like one. That was until…

Exhibit C: Normal dude would introduce himself, establish that he lives there, maybe talk for a few minutes then allow you to move about his temple at your own leisure. Guy-who-exists Foyle does none of these things, expresses no cordiality, fails to tell you he lives there but gets pissed because you don’t introduce yourself or compliment his stunning wardrobe, acts aggressively and proceeds to kick you out.

Now, I’ve known the older brother most of my life because I’m bros with his younger brother. Had the younger brother been there, the douchecanoe would’ve probably been put in his place. But I was nowhere near drunk enough to fight at the time, so I exited the Exhibit C encounter happy to have gained a story idea for this week.

Déjà vu occurred when we actually arrived at the bar. It was a Saturday night and they had the spectacular $10 12-oz. beer special, so obviously it was jam packed with 20-30 year old kids. An hour in, our birthday boy got to see his lunch again, his girlfriend rushed him to the bathroom, and that was the last we saw of them. I hope he’s all right. I should call him now that I think about it.

We all keep at it despite losing two. Nature eventually calls so I make my way to the restroom. On a huge bar floor like this one, you obviously have to push your way through people like a Spartan shield wall. This is Basic Humanity/Bar Perusal 101.

But not to Mr. Surfer Bracelet. I took one look at Mr. Surfer Bracelet and saw a man of much insecurity, which is often compensated for by antagonism toward strangers and $50 a week on B For Men hair gel.

As I shifted past Bracelet toward the male facilities, he yelled in my face that I spilled his Malibu with Diet Coke. There was so much wrong with that statement that I’ll only identify the two most obvious things:

1. AskMen ranked Malibu with Diet Coke #9 on the Top 10 Drinks Real Men Don’t Order. I quickly realized after he said this that his insecurity could very well be a sexual identity crisis masked by excessive aggression.

2. Bracelet didn’t even have a drink in his hand. He lied as an excuse to get in my face.

I was extremely confused. Was he lying about having a Malibu with Diet Coke to be funny around his friends? Was he lying about me spilling the imaginary drink to be funny? Was he talking shit to me to be funny? Nothing about anything he said made sense, which made him look equal part douche and idiot at the same time.

Our senior editor wrote an article back in September about how the line between “bro” and “douche” is blurred. The article points out that there shouldn’t be a line, because they aren’t even close to each other. A douche is angry 90% of the time for no particular reason. A douche is a proud asshole. A douche is an unfriendly closed circuit. A douche is an oxygen waster. Essentially, a douche is a person who stomps around with hands over his ears like a kid at Toys”R”Us when he doesn’t get what he wants.

Bros do not waste oxygen. Bros are not proud assholes. Bros are men of easygoing pleasures and sensibilities. We’re just here to hang out, drink a lot, shoot the shit, and have conversations that reflect our simplicity and education. We don’t draw attention but we don’t blend in either. We try to contribute in some way to whatever social environment we find ourselves in—nothing more, nothing less.

The main difference: douches are lost causes whereas bros aren’t. Don’t be a lost cause like Boyle or Surfer Bracelet. But hey, if you regularly visit this website, you already understand what I’m talking about.

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