Bros

Bros are the gross generalization I give the east coast dude. It is the second of two forms of east coast dude, the other being the Vineyard Vines Guy. Neither pleases me, so PLSiii, you are safe. (Though I never thought I'd be dating someone from Texas who had a motorcycle and a country accent but there are exceptions to every rule, and your whole modern architecture thing and wearing of Vans is a good balance).

Anyhow.

Bros. They wear gold chain necklaces. They feel it's ok to wear tank tops, wife beaters, t-shirts that once had sleeves but no longer do. I saw a tight gray A-shirt in the mall this morning, tucked into jeans, with the gold chain. I don't know where he was going at 8:30 this morning. Probably not to buy a real shirt, though. Hey look, Bro! Gap has shirts with sleeves!

There is something about the Bro that makes him want to start a fight with another guy on the street, something that makes him want to yell as loud as he can at 2 a.m. Obviously that something is usually alcohol, but there's something else. I think it's a gene. A Bro gene. I've never lived anywhere, even my apartments in the borderline ghetto of USC by downtown LA, where I heard Bros shouting at each other, and at their chicks, women, bitches, girlfriends, etc. And then I moved to Boston.

First week here, a Bro and his woman were having a yelling match in the middle of the night. He'd yell. She'd sob. He'd yell. She's sob more. Then she'd yell. Then it was like he got hit with a conscience and he'd talk all soft to her. Baby baby baby. Then he'd yell more. She'd sob more. It wasn't just annoying, it was uncomfortable and borderline nerve-racking, me coming from a home where the only people yelling at each other are me and my mom. So this is what domestic violence sounds like. Interesting.

Last month, it was three Bros on one as they threatened to (and probably actually did) beat up the weaker Bro. Right outside my window at 3 a.m. Calling him names I won't get into on this blog. It lasted for over an hour, and of course, one of the Bros' girls had to get involved. 

And tonight, before was even dark outside, two dudes were yelling at each other about who knows what. I glanced outside to see two otherwise decent looking guys walking towards each other making threats, one's girlfriend pleading from behind to "cut it out." Five feet away from each other, the Bro with the girlfriend turned around and backed off. 

Oh, Bros. I will never understand you. And I'm fine with that.