Welp, here it is, late summer. It’s technically still flip-flop season; garbage is fragrant, air conditioners are precariously poised in windows. All seems right with the world until you step into a Starbucks. You shudder as it’s heard back-to-back in line, the ordering of the sweet-pumpkin-syrupy madness. You think, is this what hell is?
All men know that pumpkins aren’t in season until fall, but — do women? Where do they think the pumpkins come from if they’re not done growing? Do they know that pumpkins are technically squash?? You could be restocking our fridges with our favorite brewskies but instead you’re drinking squash water! My head hurts…
It makes me violently ill to see women enjoy this autumnal cup of hell when it’s still technically iced tea season. They shouldn’t get to enjoy something seasonal in a different season! It’s blasphemy! Real people (again, all men) know the virtues of discipline and patience. I have to wait for my wife to be in the horny part of her lady blood cycles to even have a chance of her having sex with me, so women should have to wait for their gourd lattes because my wife hates me, and life isn’t fair.
I see my “friend” Deborah sipping her cursed orange-tinted drink on social media, posting the disgusting photo with her two cliche, autumn-related hashtags. Articulate people (say it with me: every single man) don’t need hashtags because they can convey all necessary information in a short caption. “Beers with the boys,” says all you need to know and more. I may even use that as a title for my memoir, come to think of it.
Reasonable people (count ‘em, all the men in the world) get excited and appreciate the important things, like when the team in the red jersey puts the ball in the basket more times than the blue jersey team and when beer tastes good. The moment I see one of you ladies smiling with a pumpkin spice latte, I worry you’re not engaging in the emotional labor you should be for your man, like picking up their dirty socks from random places and consistently introducing new moisturizers to them while they whine.
In this time of great ideological division in our country, I think we can all agree on one thing: women need to stop having fun with their fancy autumnal lattes — unless they’re gonna share. Hey, babe, can I have a sip?