It’s a new beginning to an old story. As predictable as the heart is fickle.
So we shrug our shoulders and drink whiskey because we are men.
We lift heavy corners and walk backwards up stairways because we are men.
We go to uncomfortable lengths to find comfort because we are men.
We try to think analytically but come to quick conclusions and plan our next move as a distraction because we are men.
We look for perfection that can never be found and confuse ourselves with fantastic visions because we are men.
We always insist on paying the bill—even if we’re broke—because we are men.
We slowly break down but tell everyone we’re on top of the world because we are secretly cowards—enjoying the attention while we crumble.