I'm long out of college. How long? Well let's just say my Liberal Arts degree expired two years ago. And believe me, there's really no point in renewing it.

Anyway, I live in New York City now and still hang out with a handful of my college buddies. Every couple months we congregate in the same dive bar in Lower Manhattan and get stupid.



On our last outing, we arrived at the bar early on a Thursday evening and immediately began throwing back pints of Bass Ale. As the four of us sat, admiring Sheila, the rugged yet adorable bartender, my crazy friend, John Moore (I mean this guy was really crazy; in college we used to call him Jack) suggested we do a round of tequila shots. I passed. Told him, "No way man, last time I drank tequila" yadda yadda yadda." (You know the rest of that story. We've all had the life-altering tequila experience, haven't we? I'm actually putting together a coffee table book called Decimation By Tequila: 100 Haikus on Blacking Out).



Now that should have been the end of the tequila discussion, right? No means no. And not like there was anything John Moore (married now with a kid and a mortgage) could say to change my mind.



Or was there? Wait a minute. There was. I forgot about the question. The one pitiless question that could coerce me, Craig Baldo, a man of resolution, of will, into spiking that bullet of Cuervo. One question. And Jack knew what it was"



"What are you, a pussy?"



When thrown this interrogative dagger, most men will have no choice but to surrender. All the confidence in the world cannot diffuse the spotlight when posed this question. You could be a clergy member, a decorated Army General, the President (bad example) and you would still crack under the weight of the one question.



"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I will now call a thirty minute recess."

"Oh come on Judge, what are you, a pussy?!"

"No fuckin' way man! Court's back in SESSION!"

And I was no exception.



I'm not sure why men refute this label so vehemently. I just know that I'd rather be called anything else. A loser. Fine. I mean, I'm over 30, single, broke and have a roommate who walks through my bedroom to get to the bathroom. "Loser" is probably not so far form the truth. I can handle it. Or a "cocksucker" even. I don't mind being told that I suck cock. Big deal. Maybe I really needed the job.



And so what if that night at the bar I heaved my entire pesto farfalle dinner along with the attempted tequila shot on my sprint to the bathroom, grossing out everyone in the bar including the rugged yet adorable Sheila. At least THIS disgusting, cock-sucking loser AIN'T no PUSSY!



I have a theory of why I myself am so quick to disprove the accusation. It comes from college, the "formative" years of my life when reputation was built on bravado. See in high school, you were automatically a pussy because you lived with your parents. You accepted it. But in college, you're given an opportunity to create a new image, as a man without parents, without a curfew, without limitations. To be branded a pussy at this stage of life was not something I was willing to risk. My future street-cred was at stake. And whether I was guzzling an entire bottle of mustard on a dare or painting stripes on the RA's ferret, I was determined not to have the P-word associated in any way with my new image ("Just give me the damn Guldens bottle and shut the fuck up."). I guess somehow I've never lost that deep-rooted anxiety.



So basically what I'm saying is that if you see me behaving uncharacteristically after having been asked whether or not I'm a pussy, what you're seeing is a defense reflex. A knee-jerk reaction. The ONE question – am I a pussy, that is – has become my Queen of Diamonds. But like I said, I've been out of college for years now, and the truth of the matter is, at this stage of my life it's not so important for me to be cleared of all pussy charges. I really don't care what you think about me. I'm just a guy trying to live an honest life. And if in doing that, I come across as looking like a pussy to you, well then belly up to the bar bitch, and we'll see just who the REAL pussy is!



check out CraigBaldo.com for more.