A guy will kill a spider for you. A guy will open a door for you. A guy will wait 9 hours for you to get pretty. A guy will run around in mall and errand hell for you while you get your shit done. A guy will listen to you as you complain about your girlfriends, co-workers, invisible love handles, the wrong Dancing With The Stars elimination, how your family is trying to vote you out of it, how your kickboxing class being cancelled messed up your month…we’ll do anything. We’ll be there. We care. No really. But when a guy is sick? All that shit goes out the window! And IF YOU WON’T TAKE CARE OF US, LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE!!! Real men are tough. Loyal. Caring. Fun. But when we’re sick? We are the biggest cry babies in the world! I’ll go on record on this right here! Guys handle most things in life pretty fucking well, but when it comes to being sick, we suck. Women handle being sick way better than us. We need attention. We need to be served on hand and foot. I know. It’s sad. But true. But if you can’t help make us better, then stay the hell away until we get better because we are real fuckers when we’re sick. We hate you. We hate ourselves. We hate everything.
I’m a healthy guy. I never get sick. I go 18 hours a day. Gym, work, women, networking, sports games, running around Boston…daily. I’m a beast. But I have a good diet and a great immune system. And I heal fast as fuck. I’m like Wolverine. Seriously. But I always get a bad cold once every 2 years like clockwork. It never fails. But I always try to stop it before it becomes a full-blown cold. I need 48 hours to nip this shit in the bud. And if I don’t catch it, I know I will turn into Miserable Fucker T. Because I’m the biggest asshole on the planet when I’m sick. I don’t want to be bothered. Just give me my couch, my TV and a bunch of soup, juice and tea. If you’re not playing nurse then don’t call me. Don’t text. Don’t stop by. I’ll only talk to my mother, sister and my cousin/best pal. So I can act like a baby on the phone and tell them how sick I am. Yep. Pathetic. I know. And every guy is this way when they’re sick. If they say otherwise, they’re lying douches. I know other guys are this way too because when a buddy is sick I’ll fuck with them to come out. They’ll text back “Dude! You know I’m sick! WTF?! Stop asking me to come out. Shit.” Haha. Because I do that too. We have to let the whole world know we’re sick.
So if I can’t nip my sickness once that itchy, scratchy thing in the back of my mouth starts happening with my Emergen-C, Airborne, Vitamin Water self medicated combo in the first 48 hours, here’s what a woman can do to help a sick man without getting hit with our sick guy asshole wrath. At this time I only love my couch and pillow. Not you. Sports Center is now my second love. Maybe a movie like Heat or Goodfellas will cheer me up if you put it into the DVD player for me. Don’t ask how I’m feeling more than once. Don’t touch my remote control. Don’t cuddle with me on the couch. Get oooofffff! You can try making me soup. But like 9 different kinds of varying temperatures until I try each one and pick the winner after you test feed them to me. Fluff my pillow. Gently. Please don’t talk. At all. Just nod with consoling sympathy puppy eyes. Then get out. You can’t stay. I’ll call you when I have the strength to press my thumb again. Don’t dare call me! I will smash my phone! In about 3 days, I’ll be back to normal. Being the manly man who you like again. And let’s never talk about how much of baby I was while I was sick ever again. Not to each other. Not to anybody. This is key. Now you know how to handle a guy when he’s sick.
Until next time. Always take it there.