You're A Pussy

After decades and decades of instilling in our pop-culture subconscious that rock–hard abs and even harder guts gets all the glory, have we failed what Rocky and Rambo?

Three months ago, things weren't going well for my friend Will (not his real name). Mastering the art of slactivism to its purest form and embodying doucheness in its truest sense, he was leading what seemed to be the road towards possible perdition when he accidentally broke it off with his girlfriend… a day before valentines.

You’re thinking, a total jerk-off right? I mean, who does that?

But let’s cut the guy some slack and give him the benefit of the doubt that there is deeper reason on why he had to call it quits on what his girlfriend would consider as the most important day in February, aside from the premiere of what would then be a badly-acted, poorly-received Machete. Like, she wasn’t flexible enough or she wasn’t as enthusiastic in giving head as he was on going down on her or she’s just plain lousy. Whatever his reason was, I’m sure there was one… or two.

So it came off as a surprise, well, actually no, when his text message reads “Yawa k.hilak ko blue valentine. I’m afraid of this fuckd up shit bai.” I was like, dude, seriously? Who would ever cry to Blue Valentine? Was it because of the mere sight of Michelle William’s cute white ass or was it because of the beauty that was Michelle William’s cute white ass? I could not think of any other reason.

“I feel s0ry f0r myself f0r being so dumbass fuckng in l0ve… Sakit bei. Di ko ksab0t…I l0ve d girl so much nd there’s n0thing that I can do but to just suck it up,” he continues.

Wait, isn’t this supposed to be Will, my friend, the jerk-off who dumped his girlfriend, a day before Valentines?

I’m thinking, what a pussy.

Episodes like Will’s have been infecting my friends lately like it’s some kind of epidemic. Take John (not his real name), for instance, 23 years young, intelligence off the scale, and currently enrolled at a graduate school. In other words, nerd… In recent years, he was making a name for himself, appearing in local dailies and getting recognition, calling himself a semi-celebrity, shit like that. Last year he topped a licensure exam.

Is there anything this wonder boy couldn’t do, you ask? Us, friends of his know better. But let’s just leave it at that.

“Say dude, theoretically, if bigwig comes up to you and asksyou to consider working as a segment producer for a certain show you’re a big fan of, would you consider?” I ask.

“I don’t know what a segment producer does, but I know I’m gonna be good at it,” he replies.

You’re thinking, dick right? Apparently humility is something he’s really good at.

The harrowingly fine line between confidence and cockiness can be really tricky and, obviously, despite his immensely high IQ, the guy’s not fully aware. But then again, why should he when he can effortlessly just, as Beyonce puts it, back it up? Simply put, Kanye can be *coughs dick what he is because he is Kanye.

But brilliance has its price. When you’re at a point in your life wherein you’re young, so full of promise, got virtuosity written all over you, how can you top yourself when you already set the standard yourself?

It was during one of those times he chats me up on facebook, asks me what I was up to and I tell him “Nah, same old same old” and he then tells me how my life sucks… when it was pretty obvious he was envious of the flippancy I had towards life simply because I was drunkenly having fun. He was not.

“I think my life has overcome me… Sure I was making things but that wasn’t what I just wanted to be...” he whines.

Wait, isn’t this supposed to be my friend, John, the huge ego who, whether we like it or not, had every right to be one, the Renaissance man whose bravura I respected so much, and the guy who makes his batch mates secretly feel what we’re doing must not be enough?

Again, pussy.

For Jaime (his meddle name), a badass bonito dork who spends his day contemplating for world domination, got himself what he calls the chance of a lifetime; the big break he rightfully deserves; and, most importantly, every haters worst nightmare.

”Jaime! Asan ka na ngayon? I need a segment producer na adik sa survivor for this season,” Daniel (not his real name), the big boss, offers.

OMG, right?

He neither confirmed nor denied this, but knowing how big of a fan he is of the show, I’m pretty sure his lacrimal glands provided more than the needed eye lubrication the minute he got the message.

But for some reason he didn’t want to elaborate, the last time I checked on the ultimate fanboy, he said he’s no longer going. At least for now.

But wait, isn’t this supposed to be the Jaime, the pinnacle of hot dorkiness, the perfect combination of wit, humor and looks, and the self-obsessed Survivor god, not pursuing his dreams of world domination and unrequited behind-the-scenes stardom?

Another pussy?

The proofs are unsettling; the crying; the complaining; the confessing. Are we a bunch of pussies? Whatever happened to ballsville? Most importantly, where have all the balls gone?

After decades and decades of instilling in our pop-culture subconscious that rock –hard abs and even harder guts gets all the glory, have we, especially the male populace, failed what Rocky and Rambo fought for in those movies?

But then again, you ask who? Exactly.

In a time where Green Lantern’s sidekick gets to kick more ass, Ryan Gosling is some kind of a rockstar, and girls love ‘em Edwards and not Draculas, is there even a room for brainless machismo?

As for Will, he’s hopeless. Unless he moderates on those chick-flick fares, and start on that Entourage season 7 marathon I encouraged him to do, he’ll forever be a wuss, crying about some stupid movie and his love life when he ought to have been having a fun time watching the perfection that is Sasha Grey.

I loved Blue valentine too. But mainly because of the cool end credits.

John should learn how to let loose and Harvey Levin’s philosophy on toilet manners. Sometimes, there’s a room for mistakes here and there. The top is a lonely place to be, especially when you’re alone and alienated everyone else.

I told him once about Sasha’s life, how she waited tables, saved 7 grand, moved to L.A. and became the star that she is now. She gambled and it paid off well. He believes taking chances are for people who don’t have options. He now complains about his life (or lack of it).

Jaime’s a different breed. On what reasons why he chooses to put his delusions on hold, we may never know. But there’s definitely a reason. Probably a skewed one, but a reason nonetheless.

One thing’s for sure though, he will still try to emulate Hayden Kho (yes, him). At least the good parts.

Of this moment, parts these three guys are maybe without are balls*. It’ll be back in no time. But as of this moment, what good are balls when don’t have a brain? You can’t just go shoot and shoot without aiming.

Besides, to end this discourse, it actually takes balls – huge humongous balls, to admit you ain’t got none.

Disclaimer: Only temporary; Pertains to the hypothetical kind. The men mentioned above are young virile animals that would fulfill your appetite just as any men would do you or even better. Only difference is, they’re smarter than most meat you’ll ever get in this lifetime. So grab a book and get smarter. You might snatch yourself one and get a taste cerebral intercourse heaven, baby.