Ten years ago, I was waddling around my college campus going from one place to the next, with no real destination, as one does. I happened to be behind three guys, fraternity “brothers” to be precise. For ease of storytelling, let’s name them Gunner, Axel, and Thor. I don’t actually know their names but it’s apt and will make do for the time being.

Anyone walking past could tell they were real men. Now, Gunner’s haircut was a style I imagine one achieves by asking the barber for “the bald look”, starting at the sides, then leaving halfway through the haircut—just before the razor starts shaving away the top. I believe this style is called a “mullet”(?). I’m not too sure; I’ll have to ask around. In any case, that’s going to be my next haircut. Gunner’s hair reminded me of a Lego piece that I swear belonged to my Saturn V rocket I was gifted for Christmas at the age of five; the fingerprint of a real man. Axel had a tank top that was more tank than top; he ripped extra material off of it at the arms so that his thick nipples could see the light of day. By the same token, his armpit hair was exposed, glistening with beads of sweat and swaying in the wind, akin to turf after a rowdy football game. It inevitably occurred to me that I want to be like him when I grow up (VSK 2025). Finally, Thor, the manliest of them all, faced derision labeled as a “douche” though he and I knew that the hatred traced its origins to jealously, held a Monster in one hand and Penny skateboard in the other. He turned towards Gunner and Axel, looking straight into their eyes, preparing to drop what I expected to be the manliest shit I have ever heard. I knew, in this moment compressed between my failed past and my hopeful future, that this was the moment I had lived two decades for. Behind Thor’s aviators (even though it was cloudy), I could see the assured salvation. Since they were the manliest of men, I decided to listen intently, for their legendary conversation was about to unfold.

“I caught some bass last weekend. 24 inches. This one’s going on Hinge.”

The world froze for what seemed like an eternity; silence demanded its share of the world.

Of course! That was the obstacle between me and becoming a man! The implications of the realization were so overwhelming I could hardly contain my excitement. Years of getting rejected by girls now suddenly made sense. I had heard of this stuff in legends, but to be in the presence of these godly men! It was at this moment that I had an epiphany. How could it possibly be any simpler! Surely, my impression was accurate. After all, it came from Gunner, Axel, and Thor; the most credible men when it came to life advice. I had established, or rather, uncovered something legendary; girls fall in love with the guys that catch the biggest fish. Girls must be swiping left and right, keeping their eyes peeled for guys fondling giant fish. Hell, there’s probably a feature on Hinge that allows for filtering based on fish species, size, and weight, all important factors to consider when thinking of entering a serious relationship.

But how could I climb this newfound rung on the ladder of life? I didn’t know a single thing about catching fish. After some failed meditation, I figured that if I joined the ranks of these men, I could somehow diffuse into this heavenly realm myself. I could potentially ask around about fish, which would ensure my entry to the happy life; bliss. I could walk around campus with my arms full of women who understood the true value of a man; fish.

The following week, I decided to rush the fraternity printed on Axel’s more-tank-than-top. Oddly, no sight of women. Not a single one within a 10 mile radius of the house, but I assume even real men need time off. I had done some research prior to rushing, and what I had discovered assured me of the truth. Performing simple statistical tests confirmed the trend. The larger the fish, the manlier the man. As I expected, finding a mentor wasn’t so hard. He was known among the elites as Brutus, highly regarded as “the man” of the fraternity. He had claimed his position through his record-breaking streak, successively catching the largest of fish. And consequently, just as the axiom had predicted, he was the manliest of men. His basketball shorts, a physical manifestation of his true greatness, seemed to me an uncoordinated effort at something that I guess would be called an outfit, but I’m not a manly man, drowning in attention from women. How could I possibly understand these things. Brutus also smelled of mint and upon closer inspection, I discovered that his front teeth were in fact substituted with Zyn nicotine pouches, supposedly spearmint flavor. I understood this to be the man who would grant me my dreams, and there was absolutely no doubt in my mind.

All this took place ten years ago. The training process was long and arduous. I’ve mastered the art. I’m now able to catch the largest of fish without a rod. Don’t ask me how, I can’t go into the details; can’t spill all the secrets of the fish. But I guess they recognize my greatness from underwater, so they oblige me by willingly getting caught. My Hinge profile is covered with fish. Girls probably get their daily dose of omega 3 from my profile.

The women haven’t flocked into my arms just yet. Brutus, who now has no teeth remaining, informed me that there would be a lag phase until my godly powers can be perceived by the masses. But I’m happy to report that the beginnings of my powers have awakened. The first effects were observed in my grandmother, who I believe, is completely smitten. All the Asian mothers also love me, though now that I think about it, I think this was always the case.

I don’t doubt the credibility of these men, but given the current situation, let us suppose that all else fails. Don’t worry my plan is foolproof, but it’s always a good idea to expect the worst. I’ve only fondled freshwater fish, and my grandmother, who loves me dearly, tells me there’s lots of fish in the sea.

Perhaps I’ll try the sea.

Thanks to my 17 or 35-year-old aunt who inspired this piece. I still don’t know how old she really is.

Last modified on 2025-08-11