Writing in the blog every day of this month was way harder than I expected. Some days the sentences came easy, but more often than not I didn’t want to write at all. I would sit down and force the words, it felt like trying to dig through clay-dense soil. On the days I didn’t write, I was either climbing or the thought of writing just seemed too energy draining and emotional. If you haven’t noticed, writing for me is less of creating sentences and ideas but more of opening my chest and spilling its contents on the page. I don’t hold back and try not to be sorry. So, today I decided to write something a little less emotional and a little more fun. It was really easy for me to write and I could have kept going on and on 🙂 This was inspired by an article from the Onion and of course, all of the bros in my life.
This one goes out to bros everywhere: brogis who come to my broga classes and ask if we can do some handstand pushies, bros who hang out in Brosemite and climb cracks in their Testabrosas, bouldering bros down in Bishop who run shirtless laps on Ironman Traverse and bump Macklemore while they work the Hulk in groups of 17 (megaproj),
Bro, I know your secret. I know what lies beyond your flat brimmed hats and Quicksilver hoodies–it’s sensitivity, bro. Don’t deny it, don’t try to cover it up with those bro-ass sunglasses and cut off tees that show your self-tanner tinted biceps. Let’s be honest. You fucking love kittens. I know that Die Hard isn’t actually your favorite movie–you wanna watch Midnight in Paris, again. So go ahead. Order the seared ahi salad. There’s no way you want another chicken burrito with extra guac. I know that when you smother everything in Ranch dressing you’re actually just trying to cover up the innate emotionalism and tenderness that you’re made of. You don’t have to act so strong all the time ya know. I know you hurt, bro. Enough with the brotein powder, your lats might not be as big as you’d like but bro, I see that swole heart of yours. It’s looking pretty buff these days. Let’s talk about the Joni Mitchell CD I found in your car. Let’s talk about that time you asked me for scissors so you could cut the sleeves off of your Element tee and how I know you were actually asking for permission to cut the fear out of your worried mind so you could tell me about how you really miss your Mom. It’s okay bro. Stop saying “dope”. I know you want to call that sunset “beautiful”. You can. I know you cherish your brodom and want to stay true to the brolosophy you’ve come to live by, but be honest with yourself, bro. Don’t order a Michelob Ultra. You love a good Zinfandel. When you tell your brobrahs about this hot chick from the gym who you’re going to the pool with later and how it’s just whatever but you’ll probably hit that, I know you actually smile really big when you think about running your fingers through her hair and writing little love letters and being able to call her baby. I know you wanna cook pasta for her. I know all about how you got sad and stayed in on Friday because you saw a picture of her with another guy on Facebook. I know how relieved you were when she told you that the dude is just her cousin.
Bro, let’s talk about how sweet it is when you give me your Hurley jacket and let me beat you at beer pong. Let’s talk about how you love football season mostly because you get to kick it with your best bros every Sunday. Let’s talk about how nice it is when it’s just you and me driving late at night and you get teary eyed telling me about That Thing you went through a few years ago.
Quit pretending. I know your secret, bro.
Happy Halloween to all of the bros and brosephinas in my life, I love you all!