Outside of the In-Crowd – How Not To Be An Asshole 1: A Things Assholes Like Helpfulness Guide

Courtney Enlow

You know, I realized that in this series, I’ve been expounding on the things liked by the assholes of this world, without offering and helpful tips for you stave off your own inner-assholiness. And this is wrong of me as someone you trust, a doctor in the field of asshometrics. So since nothing remotely interesting has happened in the field of entertainment since last week, and since if I dedicate a whole post to yelling at Trekkersies who didn’t like Star Trek, I’ll probably be found dead with a little plastic Kirk figurine sticking out of my mouth, I figured it’s time to remedy what I’ve neglected and help you be a better you.

My helpful guide will be a series in itself. The first deals with gender-specific assholery. If you have a gender, you need my help.

1. Machoness is next to cheesiness

I think I speak for all women when I say that we do love ourselves a manly man. We don’t need Bear Grylls, but we don’t want Pete Wentz (and if you’re reading this and you DO want Pete Wentz, then you’re already beyond my help). But some guys have a strange idea of what makes a man a man, and they need assistance.

Any fan of Hot Chicks With Douchebags, or anyone with eyes and access to bars for that matter, can spot a deeb when they see one. Overmuscled, undersized shirt, shaped like an upside down triangle, stupid hair and a bit red-faced, wearing a shirt with some really stupid looking cursive print or metallic design that one would have found at a Hollister seven years ago. They seem to think ladies find this attractive, and for some ungodly reason, some of them do. But as long as these two genders of assholes stick together, they won’t bother the rest of us, so it’s fine.

I’m more concerned with the secretly macho. Guys who look nice and normal and then show random signs of cro-magnonness.

My personal most hated form of this: the I’m-too-cool-and-strong-to-hold-on-while-riding-the-train. Now if you don’t live in a place with public mass transit, you may not know what I’m talking about, so let me describe. Imagine you’re riding to class or work on top of your car, Teen Wolf-style. Now it’s moving and sometimes it takes turns and you’re seriously not able to stay on. And you’re not even dancing and doing backflips, just trying to stand up and not die. That’s basically what happens on the train, except there’s tons of people standing around them, so when they get knocked around, they get knocked into people. Mainly me. On a daily basis, I stand next to some asshat who refuses to hold on (because apparently holding on causes vaginas, and we just can’t have that). Then every time the train shakes or turns, they knock into me and smack me in the face with the latest copy of Runner’s World or Men’s Health.

Men of the world, please stop. Hold on when riding the el, lay off the weight gain powder and HGH, break eye contact when hitting on a girl (because when you just stare at us ceaselessly we get flashes of Patrick Bateman) and go up a damn shirt size. Then the ladies will come a-flockin’.

2. Don’t be “That Girl”

And ladies, when you go a-flockin’, please take precautions to prevent general “That Girl”-ness.

That Girl takes many forms. She can be obvious or live completely in secret until that fateful third Jagerbomb. So you really must look out for the classic signs.

Does she seem to love sports, but doesn’t really say much during the game, and what she does say is often wrong? Does she drink the same beer you happen to be drinking, but does so really slowly and then does a shitload of shots? Does she not have many female friends because “girls are too much drama”? She is the Guy-Friendly That Girl. Girls do not like her because she is completely guy-centric, so she only knows how to fit in with guys enough that they like her (this is why she may also be a self-proclaimed fan of The Girls Next Door and speak of unproven bisexual tendancies). You’ll realize quickly that she has zero understanding of these sports she claims to like, which is all well and good, but she’ll overzealously insist that she loves them. She will be annoying.

Does she get told that she’s beautiful so often that you find yourself thinking “you know, no, she really isn’t”? Does she seem to believe that she’s really cute, with her constant aw-shucks nature? Does she speak of really “cool” bands and movies, even though you’ve only ever seen her listen to Jack Johnson and watch How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days? She is the Fabricated Personality That Girl, caused by years of being told how pretty she is and never having to develop a personality of her own, and then starting to realize that she’s not as pretty as she always thought, and now must actively fight to get people to say it. Tread lightly; she will become clingy and will suddenly love everything you happen to like (and will tell you that she did so long before you’d ever heard of it).

Is she too interesting? Does she seem to tell you a lot of stories about threats on her life, or has she had three months to live the entire time you’ve known her (and you’ve known her for four years)? She is the Crazy That Girl. Be nice to her, but do not touch or befriend. She will probably try to kill you, or at least call you crying every two weeks about how her dog died (again) until you finally start paying attention to her again.

This is but a small cross-section. So how does a girl prevent dawning That Girl-ness? Well, you really can’t. At some time or another, we are all “That Girl.” We call an ex and get all weepy, or our self-esteem seems to be crushed because we don’t get hit on one night. So the only to really avoid it is to never drink alcohol. But luckily, since most of us tend to only be like that when we’re drunk, the rest of the time we’re okay. The only way for the aforementioned girls to avoid and change? Therapy. Just so much therapy. Just like the rest of us.

Assholiness is avoidable. If you or someone you know is an asshole, please, call my helpline. Thanks and God bless.

Courtney Enlow is a writer living in Chicago and working as a corporate shill to pay the bills. You can contact her at courtney@hobotrashcan.com.