By contributing writer John Marcher
There is one affliction within the realm of male friendship that provokes such incredible anguish and futile resistance that it cannot possibly be summarily described in a single sentence. It is unrecognized by physicians as a formal disease, and it has no medicinal cure. This disorder’s symptoms include, but are not limited to: increased heart rate, irrational decision making, going to James Blunt concerts, increased tampon availability, purchasing copious amounts of flowers, tanning, loss of personality and/or will to live, and increased vaginal secretion and size. If you haven’t already guessed it by now, we are talking about being “pussy-whipped.”
Fear not though dear readers, for I have accumulated a clear and concise directive meant to end this heinous practice once and for all! However, it is only through examination of the root causes and effects of this affliction that we shall see how it is to be remedied.
Being “pussy-whipped” is somewhat of a recent phenomenon socially, really only applicable in the last couple of hundred years or so. This is mainly due to the fact that women had little or no power in society until very recently. They were traded for and bought like bales of hay and the world was a better off place for it. Unfortunately, over the course of time females have gently eroded the supremacy of the male sex, and with this has come the very concept of being “pussy-whipped” (along with AIDS). Through this simple and accurate historical portrayal of the ascendancy of the “pussy-whipped” phenomenon we can come to understand that the source of the disorder lies solely in the recent changes in a female’s ability to control the procurement of sexual gratification.
You see, in the olden days if a guy wanted sexual gratification, and he didn’t have a steady girlfriend at the time, he just raped someone. Let me tell you something else, this happened all the fucking time too; before the year 1900 women were raped every single day, multiple times a day—check your history texts. This practice hasn’t even slowed down in some parts of our world either—check the violent sexual crimes rate in modern day Africa. (Note: African rates of pussy-whippeditis rank amongst the lowest in the world.) For those of us living in the industrialized world however, this is a much less appealing remedy, what with widespread police enforcement and all that new-fangled CSI stuff. And so it is with a triumphant air that women hold the pussy on a pedestal, using it for no other means than the systematic hypnosis of a willing disciple.
We have all experienced it, every one of us. Anybody involved in any semblance of a social network has encountered the guy whose girlfriend has him whipped. He’s the one who can’t drink with you and your buddies for the UFC fight because it coincides with Desperate fucking Housewives. Or the buddy of yours who can’t make your rec-softball league game ‘cause he’s got tickets to a theatrical performance of The Lion King. This sappy piece of shit has succumbed to the almighty punanny so fervently that there’s no chance of saving him. This poor bastard is resigned to his fate of enduring the relationship until the sex loses its fizzle enough for him to realize she’s a bitch, or biting the big one and getting married (and then waiting for the sex to lose its fizzle enough for him to realize she’s a bitch). Your best bet is to just wait for this daisy picking moron’s bad decision to implode, and to then laugh in his face when he forlornly shows up in search of someone to play Xbox with.
The friend of yours you might have a chance of saving is the one who hasn’t totally bought into all of her tarot card reading bullshit yet. Odds are that he either finds the girl far too attractive for his own good, or he has encountered a female who can fuck like a donkey in heat. Just think about what happened to John Lennon. He could have had any woman in the civilized world and he chose that troll-like beast for a wife? It’s obvious to anyone with a 5th grade education that she was force-feeding him acid and fucking him six ways to Sunday. So if your friend brings a new girlfriend around who is either way too hot for him, a paid prostitute, or hands out sugar cubes like party favors, you might have a case of PW in the making.
Once you have identified a potential pussy-whipper ahead of time, you have to take action fast. Your goal in this exercise is to induce a deep-rooted hatred of your friends’ significant other as fast as possible. This process is largely subject to the unique parameters inherent to your friends’ relationship, and I encourage you to take action in the way you best see fit.
There are, however, a few general principles/tips that might you help you find your niche.
1. Tell him she’s ugly.
Garner support amongst his peer group in this campaign. If possible get every person he knows and might ask for advice on the subject to tell him she looks like Courtney Love after a five day bender. If you can enlist the help of his parents or siblings you’ve sealed the deal. Move on promptly.
2. Contact old girlfriends.
Especially one’s that he liked on an emotional level. Find the girl he lost his virginity to if possible, that’s always a sure thing. If you can, contact her under the guise of your roommate himself, such as under his screen name, or with his phone in the form of a text message. Promise her the moon and the stars above and then tell her to show up when it’s movie night with his new girlfriend in nothing but a trench coat and lingerie. The only way this could backfire is if an orgy breaks out, in which case you should be armed with fruit and lubricant in an effort to even out the girl-to-guy ratio.
3. Destroy his wardrobe.
Wait until you know he has a big date or a formal occasion to attend with his newfound lover, then wrinkle all his nice clothes or, better yet, throw them in the mud. Dump out all his cologne and refill it with your own urine. Replace his hair gel with superglue. Tie all his shoelaces together and mismatch his socks—you know the routine, and if you don’t, just watch a few episodes of MacGyver. Sabotage is a time-honored way in which to throw his already pathetic life into disarray.
4. Fuck up his car.
If it’s wintertime, roll down all his windows and cut the power so she has to drive around in the freezing cold. If it’s summer, hook a large fish on a coat hanger and deposit it in his exhaust. Wait ‘til that fucker starts to rot! She won’t be caught dead in the stink mobile if it means she’ll smell like carp for the rest of the day. Worst-case scenario, go for something less subtle, like painting “(insert girl’s name) is a whore” on his hood, defecate on his seats, or cut his brake line. Get creative people and if you still need inspiration, check out those episodes of MacGyver I was talking about earlier.
If all of the above methods fail, you are left with two final options:
The first is to fuck her, and fuck her hard.
If you pound the shit out of her, preferably on his bed and doubly preferably with him watching, you’ve got a good chance of breaking up the relationship, or starting a sword fight.
If this doesn’t work, your last shot is to soak all of the toilet paper in Tabasco sauce and wait for her to go to the bathroom.
This plan works especially well if it coincides with her meeting his parents for the first time. When she bursts out of the bathroom like Lawrence Taylor after a hit of crack you’ll know you’ve hit pay dirt.
And that’s it people. Outfitted with this information you should be able to identify your friend getting pussy-whipped before it even happens, and hopefully circumvent it with a little ingenuity and some spicy condiments. Remember that in some small way it’s your fault if you let her wrest control of his destiny from his own hands. And if you are in fact able to prevent your buddy from getting brainwashed, hopefully he’ll be thankful enough to return the favor someday.