Five Signs of the Guypocalypse

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Image by Rufus Gefangenen

Image by Rufus Gefangenen

According to the doomsayers out there, Earth is slated for a fiery destruction barely two years from now. So, I decided to do some research of my own on the apocalypse. Fresh off my seven minutes of hardcore academic analysis on Wikipedia, I realize that the apocalypse—like women, in general—is something I’ve totally misunderstood.

Did you know that the apocalypse doesn’t refer to the end of the world? Although it could purportedly involve fracturing continents, brain-devouring zombies, or Michael Jackson, an apocalypse in itself is the disclosure of information to only a privileged few and of which a large percentage of humanity is unaware.

Isn’t it somewhat ironic that the term apocalypse could therefore refer to anything that women understand with ease, but which no man is able to comprehend?

Come to think of it, there has to be a Guypocalypse out there: knowledge hidden from all manhood; information that only the fairer, finer, testosteronally-challenged members of humanity are privy to; things that may not spell the end of the world for a guy, but will nonetheless bewilder us to no end. Things such as….

1. Curling irons versus hair straighteners

I once met a girl who loved her curling iron. This girl became my girlfriend, and the curling iron started spending nights at my place. After a few initially awkward run-ins in the bathroom, the iron and I eked out a reluctant tolerance of each other. It stopped flustering me with its dissonant humming and uncomfortably warm aura, and I learned to leave it alone whenever it appeared on my bathroom counter… plugged in… next to the wet sink.

Later, I discovered that the curling iron had a sibling known as a hair straightener. Soon, this device started spending nights at my place, too. Now, what gives? Why the need to alternatively straighten and curl? Can’t you just pick one direction to lean your preferences toward? Or just live with the hair you’ve been given?

I have that perfectly straight Asian hair that refuses even the guidance of gel. But I’m okay with that. As sad as it makes me, I can live with the knowledge that I will never grow a ‘fro.

2. Lacy Decorative Pillows

No, I’m not talking about the ones that you put at the ends of your couch. Those are actually quite nice and comfy. I’m talking about those tiny frilly ones that you set on top of your bed after you’ve made it; those tiny frilly ones that sit on the floor when you’re actually using your bed; those tiny frilly ones that come in such odd shapes and with such over-embroidered designs that you might as well be sleeping on a lace doily… assuming your head actually fits on it.

Maybe I should start referring to the yellowing sweat socks sitting on my bed as “decorative socks.”

3. Bath salts

Do you remember that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Elmer Fudd tries to cook Bugs by luring him into a steaming cauldron that he claims is a bathtub? Bugs eagerly jumps in, but then gets suspicious when Elmer starts cutting up carrots and celery into his “bath.” Well, that’s what I’m thinking anytime I see bath salts.

Besides, I’m well-enough versed in beef jerky to know that rubbing salt on meat shrivels it up. And believe me, shrivelage is every man’s worst nightmare. Thanks, but I’d rather stay seasoning-free.

4. Candles that smell like baked goods

Sometimes, when I feel like splurging, I’ll visit the local dessert shop, order a glass of water, then just sit and imbibe the delicious aroma of hot fudge wafting through the air.

No. I don’t. Why would anyone torture themselves that way? Because that’s what chocolate chip cookie dough-scented candles do for me. What’s the point of smelling chocolate chip cookies if you can’t eat them?

Speaking of which, I would highly discourage anyone from actually biting into one of these candles. Sometimes the temptation overwhelms me, and they never, ever taste anything like the way they smell. Believe me.

5. Eyebrow pencils

If you have ever been hit on by the merits of yours eyebrows, please speak up. Right now. Because I certainly have never heard a guy say, “wow, look at how nicely trimmed that chick’s eyebrows are. It’s like two curvy landing strips. That’s so hot!”

Sure, if you have a unibrow that would emasculate a woolly mammoth, trim it. But really, if your problem is that your brows have the same consistency as the peach fuzz at a junior high school prom, I guarantee you, no guy will care.

No, what someone really needs to invent is a “beard pencil.” You know, so I can finally sport the full goatee.

Your gig is up, ladies. I know about your secret Guypocalypse, meant to confound and confuse us guys. Now, I dig that these items may help you look nice, smell nice, or feel nice, and they might even explain why girl apartments never have that eau de rot that permeates many momes (man-homes, that is). But it is the sole opinion of this dude that they are wholly unnecessary.

Still, if you want to extend the olive branch and explain any of these for me, please chime in.

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