I’ve never been good at sitting around cracking jokes and talking about nothing with a bunch of guys.
I need the potential of getting the sex to put up with anything that boring…
besides… I always thought “men only” cliubs were kinda gay…
So I’ll trade places with you Mags, if you want… you can ask Tab for my man-card.
I’ll head over to the henhouse…
Deal?
Kinda? kinda? 
I thought I was 
Oh, ok, I can go with the “cuter if I cooked something for ya” thing 
though a guy who cooks, preferably naked, is hot
Haha MMP, I think I can concur as I enjoy male banter - deal!
Awesome!
Enjoy the fart jokes Mags… I’m gonna go be “one of the girls” 
MMP, it’s a deal! (sorry guys)
Come on over! 
make me 
I think there is a conspiracy. I’m guessing the girls got together and sent mags in as a distraction to keep us obviously superior males from joining in man-communal serious conversation. Stop looking up mag’s skirt you dolts! Pay attention! And Mad Man, I don’t know what they promised you, but you’re playing penguin. It’s damned difficult to walk with your pants around your ankles…
I know Mad Man outside of ILP, and I don’t think he’s trans… I mean, he wears lipstick and eye shadow, but I thought that maybe that’s a Danish thing? These days, it’s hard to tell. 
But it’s obvious that he is a traitor having gone over to the pink side. They’re over there exchanging quiche recipes or something.
This wasn’t one of those times… 
Ah, we ain’t buying the “Look I posted an obviously macho pic - ergo I am a man” bit anymore. It’s like those music videos where the singer is obviously and massively gay, but is surrounded nonetheless by scantily-clad babes just to provide that hint of ambiguity that will sell his records to more demographics.
It worked when I was 14. Never even suspected Freddie Mercury was gay. Despite the moustache, despite his cross-dressing. My gay-tenna just didn’t exist then. 
Anyway, at least the ladies seem to be leaving us in peace now they’ve aquired their token fifth-colomnist ‘man’. He’ll no doubt be set to do the heavy lifting and the furniture-arranging in no time. Probably grinning like a loon, while they periodically flash the odd thigh to keep his muscles working for their benefit.
It doesn’t look like our latest Satyr-clone is going to make an appearance so I’m going to use my psychic abilities of channeling.
I kinda understand that many of our members have never spent a long time in the company of women. Not long enough to observe that women will never leave a man alone to his own devices for very long. Its always like 'ooh - what are you doing…?" and “Can I help…?” or “Hmm, I think you should do it like that…”
It always kills me. The truthful answers are usually, “Well, I’m doing something which I know doesn’t interest you in the slightest, which is why I didn’t bother involving you.” and “No, you can’t help, because I’m doing just fine without you thanks, and to be honest, you don’t know what you’re doing anyway.” and finally “No, I shouldn’t do it like that, because if I do it like that, it’ll (insert dire consequence here), and btw. what you’re doing is massively irritating, do I tell you how to shave your legs…? No…? Well then go away.”
Arrgh.
I have an evil theory. I call it Adam’s rib. For a long time we protected you from the lions the tigers and the bears. We stopped them eating you. You were dependent on us, and our absence meant danger. But that was long ago. Eventually, to save ourselves time for extra playstation, we set up the world so we didn’t constantly have to stand over you while you knitted with a spear at the ready to drive off whatever thought you’d taste nice. We still expected dinner to be ready once in a while and maybe some shirts with just one crease down the sleeves, rather than the pitiful two or three that we always seem to create. Did we expect too much…? Well, yes, of course we did.
Then the world went further. Emancipation. Do whatever you like. You don’t have to hang around us anymore for money or protection or shelter - get a job - vote in whoever you like - learn Taikwondo - buy your own house. Just leave us alone and get on with it. We’ll give you a call, or you can give us a call, when you feel horny. Till then, well, I’ve still got that end-level boss in Halo/half-life/FF7 to defeat, I’m good. Tuesday…? No, I’m busy putting up shelves.
All this freedom, and STILL you don’t get off our backs.
Why do we put up with it…? Well, duh. See the picture above. If those two said “Hey Tab, oh right - you’re doing philosophy - okay, we’ll go away then, what…? Why are we wearing bikinis…? Oh, no reason.” I’m doomed, because half of the brain I was using just a moment ago to think with has fucked off down to my gonads. My IQ is instantly halved. So, cursing my treacherous brain I limp over to them and say “Okay, what did you want…?” And they say. “Tab, hey, yeah - this sofa is really heavy, but we think it would look much better over there…”
Arrgh. You just spent a century of social upheaval winning the right metaphorically to move your own damn sofa… Why aren’t you using it…?
Then it struck me that perhaps in your deepest primordial brains a part of you remembers the bad old days and is terrified by the thought that we can do without you, even for a few hours. I mean hell OMG if we can do without you for an hour, shit maybe we’ll leave you all together…! Oh noes.
Maybe women denigrate porn, not because it’s demeaning so much as it - in some small and as yet insufficient way - replaces them. They are competing with porn for attention. Same with strippers, same with prostitutes. God forbid man satisfy his primal needs for a woman’s intimate company with cheaper substitutes…
But look to the future then and fear. It’s sad - but the age of the compliant sex-bot is coming, and these sisters of pygmallion will only grow more alluring over time. Woman 1.0 is doomed, and the era of 1.1 is coming… What then…? What then…?
This may come as a shock… but you lot are not exactly my target demographic.
I could care less if you’d buy it… since I ain’t selling it to your asses anyway. (pun intended)
And calling me gay for prefering the company of women to that of hairy men-folk… well… I’m sure you see the irony in that.
Less competition for me to worry about…
And since I’m evidently a women now:
And what a pun it was, thanks for sharing.
No, I think you’re missing the irony yourself actually. It’s easy to be a man in the company of women. If anyone asks the question “Hey - where’s the man…?” It is imediately obvious - he’s the one with no breasts and a raging hard-on. But it’s much harder to differentiate yourself when you are a man in the company of men. Simply possessing a cock and an absence of boobs is not going to do it. You gotta shine. It’s the metaphysic over the physic.
Plus of course, if this were real-life, you’d have “back-up-plan” written all over you. Your trouble is you are too easy, you big slut you.
Okay - I’ve been lecturing. And Monstering. I’ll stop now.
I was about to post that here too. 
I sure hope Jonquil isn’t learning about men and women from these threads. That would be kind of, well, insane. Say it isn’t so, Jonquil!
And why are we talking to jonquil across two threads? 
Yes, I suppose we are. But why’s ‘OTT uber-masculinity’ imediately classified as nonsense anyway…? I mean OTT Uber-femininity is classed as majorly horny in my, and many other’s books really. When did it exactly become a social no-no to be brash…?
Hah, but then, this being a philosophy site, I supposed the demographic is not one possessed of a high testosterone count.
Oh, the uber-feminity has reared it’s horny head. Look at the trash talk as soon as the girls had a penis in their midst. At least there is one thing where men and women are all alike. We all know what is IMPORTANT!
This thread is the property of:
If you wake up tomorrow, it’s because Chuck Norris let you live.
This thread is dildos.
Fine, it’s time for everyone to MAN UP by posting about all of the stereotypical things that make us who we are. We are now going to begin a segment called, MAN STATS, and only honest respondents need answer:
PavlovianModel146
Height: 6’4"
Weight: 238 Lbs.
Scars: Over 20
Fighting Style(s): Taekwondo/Greco-Roman Wrestling
Weapon of Choice (Can’t Be A Firearm): Dual-Tomahawks
Favorite Man Movie: Escape From New York
Organized Sports (Past or Current): American Football, Baseball, Wrestling (Boxing and MMA, sort of)
Claims to Fame (Up to Three):
1.) When I was eight years old, I was trying to stand up and swing in a swing; I fell down and had my back partially impaled by either a very large stick or a somewhat small branch. I got up, snapped the object out of my back, and went home and put three Band-Aids over it. Later discovering that I had blood pouring out of back despite the Band-Aids, my Mom took me to the emergency room…six large stitches.
2.) When I was twelve years old, I busted my head wide-open on a diving board, yet swam out of the pool and went and asked someone for help…under my own power! I remained conscious the entire time, including through getting eight stitches, when my Dad came to the pool (someone called him and he got there before the ambulance) he saw all the blood and went into shock. That’s when I knew I had become the Alpha of the household.
3.) When I was fifteen, I fought off three guys (two of whom I think were adults), to protect the meager amount of $5.00 that they were trying to steal off of me. They didn’t know that’s all that I had, of course. I came out of it with a black eye, somehow my ear got cut, my lip was split in two places, my nose was bloody and I bruised a rib, but I fought until one of them finally said, “Fuck this,” and took off and the other two followed suit.
Best Man Quotes (That you actually said):
-“Listen, I’ll give you the first ten punches.”
-“You’ll be out of the hospital in time for dinner.”
-“I don’t need to put my fists up. I figured I would just let you wear yourself out trying to hit me.”
Smartest Man Move: For some reason, this huge fucking kid wanted to fight me when I was thirteen and he was fourteen. If I would have played it straight he would have fucking destroyed me. I knew that I had much more endurance than this kid because we played football together. I ran away from him and he ran after me, I made sure to stay only a few paces ahead, after he started to look good and exhausted I turned around and beat the shit out of him, I was still about 100% in terms of energy!
Officiated Fights (If Applicable) W/L/D:
Boxing: 7-4-1 (Five KO’s, KO’d once)
MMA: 4-8 (Four Submissions, KO’d once, Submitted Once, Lost Six by Decision)-The only thing I could do right in MMA was make people tap. It seemed like I only drew people who were much faster than me to fight, so we had to take it to the ground so I could overpower them.
***If you guys want to, throw some other stats out there if I missed any.
EDIT: Changed MMA Record to 4-8, forgot about one match I lost a few years before any other match I had.
That second story was pretty awesome, not so much the first one. When I was in second grade, I killed a man, so that’s going to be hard for you to top. (Just Kidding)
Actually, the first story was pretty cool in an innocent sort of way, I guess you guys feel much differently about mud out in California than we do here. Around here the typical reaction for anyone aged 4-18 is, “Fuck yes, it’s raining!” Then, of course, we would go out and either play football or, “Smear the queer.”
There are many who do not know about Smear the Queer. How it works is you would have a football, now if you were the guy with the football you got five seconds to start running, the group would then catch up to you and someone (or multiple someones) would tackle you. At that point everyone else would come in and kick you (anywhere below the shoulders is allowed) until you let go of the ball or willingly threw it away. The stupidest part of the game is you always wanted to be the guy with the ball, but there was no scoring system (hence no way to win) so all having the ball did for you was get your ass kicked. You especially did not want to relinquish the ball prior to being tackled, the penalties for that were quite severe; I forget exactly what they were, but I’m sure I would know had it ever happened to me.
Anyway, that second story kicks ass. I don’t think I ever got into a fight over a girl while I was in school.