Once A Tough Guy, Always A Tough Guy

My youth and early adulthood were badass, no complaints, but middle age hit me hard.  It was as though my mojo glands stopped functioning the day I turned 40, and suddenly I was not a confident man.  I became less than a man, a hint of a man.  You might say that I became a pusillanimous mouse whose greatest ambition in life was to avoid conflicts and confrontations wherever possible.  But then about six months ago I discovered Ageless Male, a testosterone supplement that I saw being peddled on TV.  I was skeptical the first few times that I saw the commercial, but I eventually called.  And it changed my life.  You see, I don’t take any shit anymore…not from you, not from anyone.  I will fucking destroy you.

You know that old maxim, “all for one, and one for all”?  Well, I got a new motto: “me first, so fuck you and everybody else.”  I yield for no man.  That’s my new thing.

Every morning, the first thing I do when I wake up, even before I do my piss/smoke/shit routine, is take my supplement.  I pound it down with a Red Bull.  It’s a great way to start the day.  https://www.tryagelessmale.com/  True, there are some side effects.  I think these pills are making my hair fall out and I have an erection almost all the time (definitely not the pleasant experience one might expect it to be!), but it’s all worth it.  I’d rather be a bald man with an inappropriate boner than a comfortably flaccid and handsomely coiffed shadow of a man.

Six months ago, my morning commutes were ordeals.  Taking AC Transit isn’t an option (gross!) and riding my motorcycle hurts my back, and so I BART to work.  At the ticket machines and at the turnstiles I’d wait as everyone and his brother cut into the line, shoving their way past me as if I didn’t exist.  When I’d finally make it to the train I’d cringe and shrink, contorting my body to squeeze into tight spaces so as to signal to onlookers that I was making an effort to create room for others on the crowded train car.  I struggled to avoid making eye contact with my fellow travelers because I didn’t want to invade anyone’s space psychically or physically.  I walked on eggshells.  Meek deference drove me, and I felt it was my duty as a citizen to be careful to stay out of everyone’s way.

But now…now I stand my ground, tall and proud.  Well, actually, I sit whenever possible.  I like to try to take up two seats on the train, one for me and one for my bag, and sometimes I laugh out loud at the folks who are standing while I’m occupying two spaces.  Sheep!  I like to stare at everyone, especially after they’ve caught me staring at them, and I think, “The only things between this and my utter dominion over all of you people are (a) the scruples that I’m choosing to keep and (b) my lack of a handgun.  Not even an automatic…just a hundred-dollar twenty-two and, like, one or two bullets.  It would take so little to crush you, to pluck you as a weed…Il Vermicello, the gardener, pullin’ weaklings like weeds…time to clean up this lawn, you sons o’ bitches.  You think you’re so great.  You’re nothin’!"

And my morning crucibles weren’t over once I’d reached my office building, either; oh, no, there was always that goddamn elevator.  I’d get into the elevator and then, as the elevator doors were taking forever to close, some straggler would invariably gesture urgently for me to hold the door.  Of course, politeness compelled me to oblige.  I swear, some of those fuckers would see me reaching toward the “open door” button and then they’d stop hurrying.  They’d smile thankfully as they lazily waltzed their ass on board, as if we’d just shared some wonderful joke together.  “Oh, what a happy and amusing coincidence that you were able to delay the elevator for me just when I needed someone to do so; isn’t it funny how fate takes its turns?  What a special moment this is that we're sharing.”  I’d silently endure the hatred that swelled and burned in my chest, and I’d die a little bit in that elevator each morning.

But now, just as soon as I’ve boarded the elevator and pressed my floor button, I immediately start hitting the “close door” button.   I don’t give a shit who sees me trying to close the door as they’re trying to catch the elevator.  If I win, great.  If I lose, my argument is (a) why should I give a shit whether anyone else makes it to work on time? and (b) if you’d’ve been Plastic Man then you could’ve been pushing the “open door” button all the while and you wouldn't hear me whining about it.  And if the person is clearly less powerful than me, I suggest that we settle our dispute with fisticuffs.  That usually shuts ‘em up.

Ageless Male has made my commutes much easier, but my new ‘tude is causing me some difficulties at the workplace.  Interpersonal friction on a BART car is one thing, but friction at the office can be problematic.  When one works as a member of a team, one must be diplomatic.  Unfortunately, the testosterone coursing through my bloodstream is making it hard for me to relate to my colleagues in a collegial manner.

For example, yesterday I was in the kitchen at work waiting for my noodles, and my co-worker was going at it hard with the lunchtime chitchat.  I bobbed impatiently by the microwave and nodded while he blathered on about the weather and sports and how the weather was affecting sports.  Finally, the microwave bell rang.  I got my noodles and tried to wrap up the conversation so I could get back to my office and watch porn.  “All right, then, “ I said, “I gotta get this status report in.  Take it sleazy.”  And this guy chuckles knowingly and says, “Hey, I’ll take it any way I can get it.”  And he said it so smugly, as if he might know of ways of taking it that were even sleazier than I could imagine, like he was more worldly than me or something.  He was definitely trying to one-up me.  His punk attitude enraged me.  I wanted to take the handle of my plastic spoon and start stabbing him in the neck.  Stab, stab!  “How’s this, motherfucker?  Huh!?  Will you take it like this?  Do you like it like this?"

So there are still some wrinkles to iron out but, still, these supplements have given me a whole new lease on life.  Honestly, these hormone treatments have had a significant impact on both my physical and mental health.  And I figure that the best way for me to adjust – physiologically, emotionally, and spiritually – to the higher testosterone levels is to introduce even more testosterone into my system so that my body can develop a higher tolerance.  So a couple of weeks ago I increased my dosage.  Now I wash down an additional supplement with another Red Bull each night.  I take it right before bedtime, and then I teach that erection of mine a lesson or two before I go to sleep.