It’s Monday lads, four days closer to the weekend. That should tell you the weekend just breezed by like a slipped fart and just like the aforementioned slip up, there must be something fishy. Well, I like to observe people when I go out. Not the creepy kind of observation. I don’t sit at a corner with a coloured straw drink with tight pants looking at random people.
I sit in the middle of the club in evenly fitting clothes sipping on redbull and water constantly distracted by an ass or two. It would be weird to be distracted by one ass. Like, “Check out that left butt cheek son! It’s got jiggle for days!” I’m not that weird though I would like to point out that most Instagram models have irregularly toned butts from their postures.
So back to the case at hand. A night out is the best time to follow up with anything you feel isn’t right. Today, it the insignificant other. From the term you’re probably thinking it’s a side chick or one of those broads you hit in nothing but broad daylight. No, that isn’t the case here. Actually, the insignificant other is usually very significant to the blind lad.
We all have that one lad that thinks he’s got it all figured out. Bring up sports, he’s the Jorge Mendes of all fields. Talk about politics, he’s the Nelson Mandela of liberating you from your ignorance. Mention music, he’s the Dr. Dre to your beat up ideas. Don’t even bring up relationships because he puts Dr. Phil and Maury to shame.
This is the lad with “The Girl”. The thing about words that have the previously mentioned article right before them is that they are usually horse shit. You get a guy that tells you, “I’m the man,” he’s probably not good at whatever he claims to be good at.
Lads, the insignificant other is usually your main lady. From inside she’s a total bitch but since you want to be life’s Don Juan, you suffer in silence. I like happy relationships just like every other guy out there. I watched all seasons of Spartacus and only forwarded through the violent bits. So when I see a good thing, I can tell a good thing and Spartacus was too damn good.
These lasses aren’t really bad people. They want the best for you in life and know that you’ll succeed if you cut off your lads. I liken these kind of ladies to a biblical character. He only wants the best for you in your life, at least that’s what he claims. Some call him Diablo, others Lucifer or if you’re still elementary, Satan.
As earlier stated, I have nothing against beneficial relationships and everyone deserves to have one as long as it’s consensual. The thing is you can help your lad grow without necessarily taking the life out of him. Unless you raised this lad and took care of him from birth to the point where you want to dig out your innards, he’s not an island.
Lads have been known to explore and in their late teens and twenties, they try to find their bearing in a cruel world. So when you cut out your lad from the world and expect him to progress, I have no doubt you’re an offspring of Satan. You’re probably wondering, why isn’t he talking about the lad? It’s simple, lads can be confused by trivial things such as ego.
As a lad though, if you have a sassy Sheila at home and wonder why your boys never involve you in anything, take heart. In fact, just take your heart, slip it into your pocket and slowly creep out of that house at midday. It would be hard to escape at night because she probably has your phone and even if she doesn’t, you answer it together. For my free lads in healthy relationships, that might just be the best gift in life.