Nobody Gives a Shit if You Call Yourself a Man

You ever notice how many grown ass men run around telling everybody what a real man is supposed to be?

Jesus Christ.

Everywhere you look, there's some son of a bitch explaining masculinity.

A real man does this.

A real man don't do that.

A real man drives a truck, grows a beard, eats his steak bloody, and wouldn't be caught dead drinking something with a little umbrella sticking out of it.

Well, hell.

I've got a truck. I've got a beard. And I like my steak.

Guess I'm qualified.

Where do I pick up my goddamn certificate?

I've been around men my whole life. Worked with em. Worked for em. Had em work for me. Drank with em. Fought with a few. Wanted to knock the shit out of considerably more.

And I'll tell you something.

Some of the biggest loudmouths I've ever met couldn't handle the responsibilities of a grown man if you handed em a set of instructions and a flashlight.

But they'll damn sure tell you how to live your life.

Funny how that works.

DO WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAID YOU'D DO

Let's start here.

You tell somebody you're gonna do something?

Do it.

I don't give a shit if it's showing up for work, paying somebody back twenty dollars, or helping your buddy move a refrigerator.

You said you'd do it.

So do it.

And if something happens and you can't, pick up the goddamn phone.

I've been in construction long enough to know shit goes sideways.

Rain comes.

Materials don't show up.

Some asshole delivers the wrong lumber.

Your truck decides today's a good day to shit the bed.

I get it.

What I don't get is a grown man who disappears because he doesn't wanna explain himself.

Won't answer his phone.

Won't return a message.

Then shows up three days later with some bullshit story that sounds like he spent the weekend making it up.

Just tell me what happened.

I'm a grown man. I can handle bad news.

What I don't have much patience for is somebody who thinks I'm stupid enough to believe whatever horseshit he came up with on the drive over.

Your word oughta mean something.

And if it don't, I don't care how big your truck is.

SOMETIMES YOU'RE THE ASSHOLE

This one's gonna hurt a few feelings.

Mine included.

Sometimes the problem ain't your boss.

Ain't your ex-wife.

Ain't the government.

Ain't the neighbor.

Sometimes it's you.

Sometimes you're just being a complete asshole.

I've been that asshole.

More than once.

I've opened my mouth when I should've kept it shut. Gotten pissed off over something that wasn't worth getting pissed off about. Dug my heels in on an argument I knew damn well I wasn't winning.

And sometimes I kept arguing anyway.

Cause apparently being wrong wasn't enough. I had to make a whole fucking production out of it.

But sooner or later you gotta be able to look at yourself and say, "Well, Joe, you fucked that one up."

It ain't gonna kill you.

You might even learn something.

And if you owe somebody an apology, give em one.

Not one of those half-assed apologies where you explain for twenty minutes why it was actually their fault.

Just say you were wrong.

Then shut up.

That's the part I still gotta work on.

QUIT WAITING FOR SOMEBODY TO SAVE YOUR ASS

I hear a lot of men complaining about how unfair life is.

And you know what?

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes you do everything right and still get kicked square in the nuts.

Lose a job.

Lose a marriage.

Lose your house.

Get sick.

Have somebody you trusted screw you over.

I've had some shit go wrong in my life too.

And there've been times I sat there wondering what the hell I was gonna do next.

But here's what I've learned.

Nobody's coming to your house with a goddamn marching band to announce that everything's gonna be alright.

Nobody's gonna knock on your door and hand you a fresh start wrapped up with a pretty little bow.

Sometimes you gotta get your ass out of bed and go figure it out.

Even when you're tired.

Even when you're pissed off.

Even when the last thing you wanna do is deal with one more goddamn problem.

Now, that don't mean you can't ask for help.

Hell, ask for help if you need it.

There's no prize for drowning because you were too proud to grab somebody's hand.

But there's a difference between needing a hand and expecting somebody else to carry your ass through life.

And I think a grown man oughta know the difference.

YOUR KID DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR SPEECHES

I've got a teenage son.

Tucker.

And that boy has heard enough of my lectures to last him three lifetimes.

I can tell when he's had enough, too.

Gets that look on his face.

The one that says, "Jesus Christ, Dad. Are you done yet?"

No, Tucker.

I'm not.

Sit your ass down.

But here's the thing.

I can run my mouth all day long about responsibility.

Don't mean a damn thing if he watches me do the opposite.

If I tell him to work hard and then sit on my ass all day complaining about how nobody appreciates me, what's he supposed to learn from that?

If I tell him to keep his word and then break every promise I make, why the hell should he listen?

And if I spend his whole childhood blaming everybody else for my problems, I shouldn't be surprised when he grows up doing the same thing.

Kids watch.

Even when you think they ain't paying attention.

Especially when you wish they weren't.

And I'm not raising Tucker to be some helpless fifty-year-old son of a bitch who can't make a decision without somebody holding his hand.

I want him to know how to work.

How to handle his money.

How to fix something when it breaks.

How to treat people.

And how to get himself out of a mess when he inevitably gets into one.

Cause he will.

He's my son.

God help us both.

BEING A BADASS AIN'T A FULL-TIME JOB

There's a certain kind of man I can't stand being around.

You know the one.

Walks into a room like everybody oughta stop what they're doing and admire the size of his balls.

Always gotta be the toughest bastard there.

Always looking for an argument.

Somebody looks at him wrong and suddenly we're all supposed to stand around while he explains how he ain't somebody to fuck with.

Alright, tough guy.

Congratulations.

Can we finish eating now?

I don't know when being a man became a competition to see who could act like the biggest prick.

You can be strong without being cruel.

You can stand up for yourself without threatening everybody.

And you can disagree with somebody without turning it into a goddamn fistfight.

Now don't misunderstand me.

I'm not saying a man oughta let people walk all over him.

I'm saying there's a difference between standing your ground and being too stupid to know when something ain't worth fighting about.

And sometimes the strongest thing you can do is walk away.

Although I'll admit there are days when I'd rather tell somebody to kiss my ass.

I'm still working on that one too.

AND QUIT WORRYING ABOUT WHAT OTHER MEN DO WITH THEIR DICKS

Since everybody's so damn concerned about what makes a real man, let's talk about something else.

Why the hell are some men so obsessed with how other men live?

Who they're dating.

Who they're sleeping with.

What they wear.

Whether they're married.

Whether they want kids.

Whether they like men, women, or would rather just go home and be left the hell alone.

What business is it of yours?

You paying their mortgage?

You buying their groceries?

You climbing into bed with em?

No?

Then why the fuck do you care so much?

I've got enough shit to worry about without keeping an inventory of what every other grown man does with his dick.

If a man's taking care of his responsibilities, treating people decent, and not hurting anybody, I don't particularly give a shit what he does behind his own front door.

And I'll tell you something else.

Some of the fellas who spend the most time hollering about everybody else's private lives oughta spend a little more time minding their own.

Might discover a few things at home that need fixing.

YOU AIN'T GOTTA HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS

Here's something I wish I'd figured out sooner.

You can be a grown man and still not know what the fuck you're doing sometimes.

There.

I said it.

There've been plenty of mornings I got out of bed with a list of problems and absolutely no idea how I was gonna solve half of em.

Bills.

Work.

Something broke.

Something else needs paid for.

Tucker needs something.

Somebody's pissed off.

And there's always some other son of a bitch wanting to know when I'm gonna get around to whatever he needs.

Sometimes I know exactly what I'm doing.

Sometimes I'm making it up as I go.

But the work still needs done.

And I think that's what a lot of this comes down to.

You don't have to be fearless.

You don't have to know everything.

You don't have to be the smartest, richest, strongest bastard in the county.

You just gotta be willing to deal with your shit.

And when you don't know something, admit it.

Find somebody who does.

Learn.

Hell, that's how most of us figured out half the things we know anyway.

By screwing something up the first time.

Sometimes the second time.

I've got a few projects around here I'd rather not discuss.

SO WHAT THE HELL IS A REAL MAN?

Beats the shit outta me.

I'm not sitting here pretending I've got some special authority to tell every man on earth how he oughta live.

I've got my own faults.

Plenty of em.

Ask somebody who knows me.

Actually, don't.

We ain't got all goddamn day.

But I'll tell you what I respect.

A man who shows up.

A man who keeps his word.

A man who takes care of the people depending on him.

A man who can admit when he's wrong without acting like somebody just cut his balls off.

A man who works for what he wants instead of sitting around bitching about what everybody else has.

And a man who can mind his own damn business.

You do those things and I don't particularly care if you drive a pickup truck or a little electric car.

Don't care if you wear boots or loafers.

Don't care if you drink whiskey or some fruity-looking shit with a pineapple hanging off the side.

Hell, order two.

I'll probably make fun of you.

But I'll respect you.

Cause being a man ain't about convincing everybody else you're one.

It's about what you do when nobody's watching.

And if you gotta spend half your day telling people how much of a man you are...

Well.

Maybe you're the one who ain't convinced yet.

Anyway.

That's my two cents.

I'm gonna go get some work done before somebody accuses me of sitting around writing heartfelt bullshit about masculinity.

And if anybody asks, I was talking about construction.

Joe Durst

FROM DURST PUBLISHING

I WROTE A WHOLE DAMN BOOK ABOUT IT.

Apparently I had more to say about this shit than I could fit into one article.

So I wrote LIVE LIKE A MAN.

It's about responsibility, raising a son, relationships, screwing things up, and trying to figure out how to be a decent man without turning into a complete asshole.

I ain't promising you'll agree with everything I wrote. Hell, I'd be disappointed if you did.

GET LIVE LIKE A MAN →