Danny Breslin

How it is…

Being a Bloke

Bloke: noun; A man (chiefly British) Origin unknown, first known use circa 1829

It’s not easy being a bloke, don’t let anyone tell you it is. Women throw up their hands in exasperation and tell you you’d never cope being a woman…before going through a huge list of things that women have to cope with day-to-day. I don’t listen though, I’m a bloke.

Being a bloke some things just don’t register in my brain, mostly because they don’t affect me, or they’re incredibly boring and trivial. Washing piling up, dishes in the sink, a carpet that needs vacuuming; I just walk by, my mind on important stuff.

Being a bloke can mean you’re a bit insensitive at times. She’s telling you something that has happened that has upset her: something she’s seen, something she’s heard, something someone said. She tells you all about it and you sit there while she lets it all pour out. Then you notice she’s crying and say, “What’s up with you?”

You’re not cruel, you’re not being deliberately insensitive; you’re a bloke. Sensitive is something that happens to other people. I think it was Chris Rock who said that when women say “can we talk?” what they really mean is they want you to listen while they talk. Now being a bloke means I have a very clever genetic instruction in my brain, that has evolved over millennia and has been passed down through many generations of blokes, that enables my brain to detect trivia and automatically shut down. It is a defence mechanism that protects you from pointless yap that scientists have proven can send your grey matter mushy. It’s true!

So you’re sitting there appearing to be attentive on the outside while inside most of your brain has gone into sleep mode. All, the while she’s rattling away about women’s…whatever matters to the (un)fairer sex…and the bloke doesn’t have to worry about mind melt. It’s genius really if you think about it, a real miracle of nature.

Then she’s like “oh you’re such a good listener…” and gives you a hug which wakes you up. So, not only has your brain been saved the pain, but you’re in her good books too – hooray!

Things are different in a bloke’s world. Someone once asked me what products I used, I found it a really strange question. “…er…same as everyone else I s’pose: milk, butter…”

“No, that’s produce. What moisturiser do you use?”

“Ah, oh yeah, sorry…water.”

I suppose you could learn about these things if you read her Cosmopolitan, but lets face it, being a bloke means you’ll only look at the pictures with your hand in your pocket!

I’m a bloke! I don’t have ‘an inner child’, what does that even mean? Where I grew up ‘having a feminine side’ meant you were bisexual. Where I grew up ‘reaching out’ usually meant trying to grab someone by the throat.

Being a bloke means avoiding mind-numbing reality TV, soaps and game shows. I hate it when I visit my aunt and she’s watching Big Brother or that thing when ‘celebrities’ you’ve never heard of are in the jungle. I hate soaps where they do nothing but bloody moan and call it drama.

I hate that thing where they take an hour to open red boxes to reveal amounts of money that are crossed off the board, I think it’s called Deal or No Deal. Noel Edmonds drags it out for an hour when, if I was the host, it wouldn’t last 15 minutes, “cut the crap and pick a f***ing box.” All the Box Openers are rooting for the Box Picker because they’re the only friends they’ve ever made. Then of course the Box Opener has to tell the little sad story and shed a tear while the nation cries with them. Get me a bucket, I’m gonna puke!

Where I grew up you only get forgiven for shedding a tear if you’re laughing. Or so drunk that you’re telling your mate that he’s like a brother to you etc.

Being a bloke in the age of The New Man is frowned upon. The New Man shares, The New Man cares. The New Man not only listens, he holds a box of tissues – some of which The New Man uses himself! Unbelievable.

So yeah, us blokes ain’t asking for sympathy, that would be most unwelcome, all we want is a little understanding. It’s not our fault, we’re just blokes.

Oh and by the way, in the middle of the night when you think you hear someone moving around downstairs, would you rather have a bloke go down there to check it out? Or The New Man hiding in the wardrobe with you pissing his pyjamas?


October 8, 2013 - Posted by | Stuff and Nonsense | , , , , ,


  1. A brave post… telling it as it is… If I put moistureiser (shit I can’t even spell it) on my face I think my other hand would probably punch me… I kinda like this post…

    Comment by bulldog | October 8, 2013 | Reply

    • I had to look it up in the dictionary to be honest.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | October 11, 2013 | Reply

  2. Thumbs up! To hell with new men… you need to get a tractor Danny…when my wife wants to us to talk I go out and start up one of my tractors.. if she follows and keeps talking I start up another…. hmmmm… her mouth is moving but I can’t hear a darn thing. Of course I do have selective deafness at times too.. heheheheh by the way when someone asks me what I use for mositurizer I say a Stout…. gotta drink something…. dishes? Lad wants to play ball….. dusting… yeah better go polish up the tractor…. family reunion? um… footy is on today….. new men… bah….. they might be more popular but who is having more fun? Blokes.. thats who!

    Comment by colliesofthemeadow | October 8, 2013 | Reply

    • I don’t know what I actually need a tractor for, but that doesn’t stop me wanting one.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | October 11, 2013 | Reply

      • They are great fun! Especially since they can drown out the wife when she is talking… god bless old tractors! LOL

        Comment by colliesofthemeadow | October 11, 2013

  3. LOL!
    And so true, sadly – women (though not all of them) do talk such a load of tosh 😉

    Comment by ladyofthecakes | October 8, 2013 | Reply

  4. Who would want to be a new man anyway? Blokes have much more real fun and they are better to be with as well.

    Comment by Christopher Meade | October 8, 2013 | Reply

  5. Here in the states, the term “bloke” is not used, I guess, “jock” would be a Yankee substitute. As a man, I like to call it “a normal male.” I have never said I do, or have really tried to, or, at my age, will ever try to understand women. I just try to get along with the minimal resources I have between my ears. Only a woman can understand a woman.The best way I can describe the difference between men and women is in a story. One man visited another man for a dinner. The male host broiled steaks. Taking a bite, the male guest asked, where he got the steak. The male host casually said, Bill’s Meat Market. Same situation, except this time one woman visited another woman for dinner. The female host broiled steaks. Taking a bite, the female guest asked, where did you get this steak. The female host spun around and said, why, what’s wrong with it? Point made!

    Comment by richardmax22 | October 8, 2013 | Reply

    • What an excellent example, hope you don’t mind if I quote you in future arguments?
      I’m not sure if your jock is the same as our bloke, I thought a jock was someone who plays sport at school? Our jocks are very different, it refers to the strange barbaric race that live north of the border. The reason why the Romans built Hadrian’s Wall – if only we’d kept that maintained.

      Comment by Danny Breslin | October 11, 2013 | Reply

  6. Danny, you brave bloke…

    Comment by mj | October 9, 2013 | Reply

  7. Good post Danny

    Comment by Kavita Joshi | October 14, 2013 | Reply

  8. He he he, the bloke in my house manages pretty well without a tractor 😀

    Comment by Madhu | October 20, 2013 | Reply

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