It’s been said that men are happy with the simple things in life, if you’re going off of their predilection for dino nuggies and furnishing their apartments with nothing but a flat screen TV and a camping chair. Unfortunately, many young men today have been indoctrinated by nefarious influencers who tell them treating women like shit and being an asshole to bartenders will bring them the satisfaction in life they crave.
No, what men really want out of life is to beat their rival in a do-or-die drag race to win the affections of a woman.
Men just want that one moment of triumph that defines them. And according to 1950s rockabilly, it involves a date with the town’s hottest greaser gal who’ll only go out with the winner of an illegal drag race against your arch nemesis from a rival gang. Forget graduating from college, the children yearn for the chop shops to build badass muscle cars.
Sure, guys could scratch that primordial itch by joining a fight club or slowly going insane from eating nothing but raw meat. But life isn’t about that! It’s about publicly humiliating the guy who called you a chicken in front of everyone at the spring carnival, and you damn sure know Sally from down the street saw you get called out.
A good paying job, nice house, and loving family can’t happen unless a man can build all of it upon the foundation of leaving their cross-town rival in the dust in a much cooler, faster hot rod for the sole purpose of impressing a woman. Sure, the ensuing date could go terribly, but it’s not about that. It’s about building character.
The sentiment goes both ways, too. You think women only want emotionally mature men capable of feeling empathy? Well, yes. But they also want to watch you beat Jimmy “The Hustler” Amato in a high-stakes race down the Los Angeles River before watching him careen off a cliff hitting “Dead Man’s Curve.”
When today’s men are lying in their inevitable death beds, they won’t want to look back in sadness at all the chances they blew and people they should’ve treated more kindly. They want to reminisce about that life validating victory of burning rubber, hot asphalt, and being in the arms of a leather jacket-clad bombshell baddie.
Fuck yeah. Pink slips on the line, lets do this!