August 31, 2006
Nothing takes a guy down a peg or two faster than burning him. Something like, for example, drafting that fantasy football quarterback you knew he wanted in the round before he said he would take him. Or drinking that last beer he stashed on purpose behind half a watermelon. Yeah, you know...the one you watched him hide.
But what makes him the better man?
Well, he doesn't hole up for a lick-my-wounds pout or get into a one-heck-of-temper-tantrum fist fight. He doesn't cry, for Pete's sake, or waste hours plotting how he's going to burn you one worse. He definitely won't do the girl thing, either: eat a quart of Chunky Monkey and a pound of Oreos while talking the cell phone battery to dead spilling his guts.
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