Something for the bros
by You Have My Word
I’m going give this to you neat, like a good Scotch.
I enjoy spitting (particularly when I run), I love burping and I’ll even admit to being amused by farting a bit (never in public though). However, let me assure you that none of these things make me a “bro”. Nor do they automatically qualify me entrance into “bro circles” (otherwise known as brocles… OK, maybe I just made that up).
I had the privilege, nay, the exception, of spending an excessive chunk of Friday with a group of bros. I cannot even begin to understand the complexities of culture within bromances and bro-dates and broconduct. Please note that inside jokes are a must (“brokes”); lots of them – maybe this is why I do not understand everything. Quantity is better than quality in this case.
Brocles aside, men generally speak another language. I’m not talking Venus and Mars stuff here, I’m just talking about how their brains work. Mine sure as hell doesn’t work the same. For instance, “that’s what he/she said” jokes are more than welcome. They are terribly inappropriate and if it were up to me these sorts of chuckle-moments would desist altogether, but they exist. And so it goes.
Also, as much as it may seem overkill, it is essential to use the word “bro” and “dude” and “man” as many times as possible in a single sentence when talking to another bro. It helps if the sentence still makes sense at the end, but if it doesn’t that’s fine too, granted there are enough “bro” and “dude” and “man” words in there.
More recently, this morning, I realised that these brocles are not restricted to the teen/young adult circles.
These bros get on well – they’re on the same wave length, but do not rule out jealousy. It’s calm and collected on top but I dare not delve into the finer details of the political undertakings that simmer just below all the testoteronic camaraderie. Fortunately, not being a bro myself (phew!), will never have to face those feelings.
I do feel like I was allowed a small window period into one of today’s most iconic society’s. Kind of like a broseum (bro + museum). I haven’t touched on half of what I think could be said, but that’s enough for now as far as I’m concerned. (Perhaps the rest should not even be publicly stated but rather left as those little unspoken nuances).
Thank you, dear bros.