1. No one likes you.

Not one person. Not even your mother, and especially not the grandma you checked into the gym wall on your way to the water fountain. If she didn’t want a busted hip, she would’ve gotten the hell out of your way.

In your attempt to be the sole proprietor of your own world, you end up being the sole occupant. This means people would have to make a conscious effort to deal with your uncomfortable egotism. Humans need socialization to survive and thrive, to grow and mature — or else we get sad.

You always thought sadness was for pussies…until that one day…

The day your girlfriend left you because you wouldn’t watch a single episode of My Little Pony, Friendship is Magic when she told you how much it meant to her. She threw the remote across the room on her way out and you tried to get up to change the channel but your glutes were shot. Why did she always pick fights on leg day?

Then something the little pony said resonated with a repressed emotion and you felt a strange wetness around the corners of your eyes. You threw yourself to the ground and crawled towards the remote like a freshly paraplegic soldier crawls towards his gun, repeating the phrase “crying is for pussies.” Then your forearms cramped up from a creatine overdose and you collapsed to the floor blinded by tears screaming “crying (sniffle) is (sniffle) for (sniffle) PUSSIES!” That tear-soaked spot on the carpet caused so much water damage you didn’t get back any of your deposit. Was it worth it? I hope not.



2. The women you attract are the worst.

How could they not be? You’ve said a total of 20 words and she’s down, plus the only thing you two have in common is that all your Instagrams are selfies. I got a firsthand look at these seduction tactics while partying in some Isla Vista resident’s living room, which is way more normal than it sounds. I’m talking/dancing with this adorable mutual friend and this dude came up to her, lifted up his shirt and said:

“This is what I’m bringing to the table.”

I burst out laughing and he looked at me in a blind, black-out rage and said,

“What’s so funny?!”

”Oh, I thought you were joking…” I held back my laughter as much as I could and to diffuse the situation said, “…that’s my girlfriend.”

“She looked alone to me,” and he bumped my shoulder as he walked past me.

This mutual friend and I had a long laugh about the incident before we hooked up. The point is, the kind of girl who responds favorably to that scenario is probably real and probably named Snookie. She mostly goes out to talk shit on less insecure women, or lead other guys on and demand you kick their asses to prove you care about her. And no, it doesn’t get better.

3. You’re a less-evolved human.

Back in the day when we were hunter-gatherers, your mentality might have made sense. Back then, you had to walk around with clenched fists because a neighboring tribe might flank you from beyond the trees. This is the 21st century, bro. Around 10,000 BC, survival of the fittest stopped being about your ability to murder a gazelle.

Today it’s much more about critical thinking and restraint. It’s about your ability to handle criticism without resorting to your ‘fight or flight’ instincts. Otherwise you’d be wearing a sweatshirt in June and some guy will say, “Aren’t you hot in that?”

And you’ll knock his ass out for questioning your decisions. In his defense, it was 100% wool.

4. It’s not normal.

Maybe if you have the outrageous testosterone levels of a Neanderthal it is, but you don’t. No matter how many times you flex into the mirror and tell yourself “I’m the shit,” it doesn’t make it so. How could you even think it works like that? Becoming ‘the shit’ would be way too easy if that were the case.

Somewhere between the 7th or 8th time you watched 300, you started believing you were the more badass reincarnation of Leonidas. You’ll defend Sparta at all costs, especially from all the ‘pussies’ who say things like “I disagree” or “Dude, I never said I wanted to fight you.”

5. Your kids will grow up to be assholes.

Now you and Snookie are married and by some flaw in nature, you’ve managed to procreate and push the world one step closer to the apocalypse. Here’s an innocent child, a blank slate eager for the life lessons you won’t impart. You’re excited to be a role model for someone too young to be a ‘hater.’ That first thing that baby’s gonna learn is how to stop crying, because you never cried. Except for that one time. You hate that one time.

When you send your little Spartan into the world, it happens all over again. Now some ‘hater’ parent complains that your child is “overly aggressive” and “insensitive,” which pisses you and Snookie off and simultaneously proves their point. What you think they’re saying is that you’re a terrible parent, which they are. Then you think that might be a critique of your character, which it is. You roll up your sleeve and realize you’re wearing that wool sweater again, and that parent is the same guy you knocked out in June for talking about it.

“I’m the shit,” you think.

“This is Sparta,” you say.

Snookie films it all from the sidewalk and you’ll be damned if you’re not going to be shirtless for this fight, everyone in 300 was. The sweater gets caught around your neck because you never let it hang dry and BAM!

A Volkswagen Bug going 10mph knocks you down, rolls over your legs and stops. You turn on your side and see that it’s brake lights illuminate a My Little Pony decal. Snookie’s video goes viral and you can’t get a slice of pizza without being noticed as the guy from “Douchebag parent cries in most embarrassing fight ever.”

Don’t do that to your kids. They deserve better.