The Bull Charge

So I was headed to for coffee this morning with a couple of coworkers, when two people passed me walking into Starbucks – a male and female, both twentysomething. She walked by first, followed by him. I barely noticed them as my eyes scanned the dozens of people right in front of me. But, I stopped when I saw the guy giving me a malicious stare.

I think most any man will understand what I’m about to describe, and I’m even going to give it a name: this putz tried to “bull charge” me. He misperceived I was taking a look at his “girl next cubicle” – probably the only joy in his poor Junior Investment Banker existence – and felt threatened. So, he reacted with an ancient male instinct. He looked right at me with an expression that said loud and clear, “STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER OR I WILL TEAR YOU TO PIECES.” His eyes said he was a bull about to charge, if necessary, to keep me from the object of his desire.

Basic explanation, for the uninitiated (female) reader: it’s natural instinct for men to use subtle primitive looks and gestures to keep each other in check. It’s a little trick we’ve never shed from the animal kingdom. Imagine happening upon a bear in the woods. Don’t run away, but don’t look right at him.

It’s the same with men in situations where their manliness is in question. And no, men can’t be blamed for such behavior – it’s ingrained after thousands of years of evolution. The cavemen who successfully stared down or fought off competitors got the child-rearing women and propagated their line, while the pussies who backed down were weeded out of the gene pool. Thus, all men today are products of those winning tough guys.

The funny thing about evolution, though, is that it’s ongoing. In this case, all the remaining men left still challenge each other for superior rights to females. And while I am no great proponent of my own superior manliness, I can say without a doubt that this guy’s line will be weeded out within a couple of generations.

I say this because the guy was, to use the technical term, a twerp. I’d have kicked the living piss out of him, no doubt. He was about 115 pounds and looked like the Backstreet Boy with the shitty little skinny-beard.

Another fact for the uninitiated: men regularly size up other men around them, calculating which he could beat in a fight. It wasn’t hard math, here. This guy’s bull charge at me was a death wish. I’m not saying that because I’m a tough guy – frankly, I’m not. But this guy was a pussy. Big time. Knocking him down would be a cinch, and it’s just a few well-placed shots from there.

So, I brought this up to my coworkers, and we all evaluated the guy and girl from across the room. First, I got the “Why were you checking her out? She’s not that attractive.” Fucking duh. That’s the point. Let’s not forget – I wasn’t looking at her. Next, my comrades confirmed – this guy was picking the wrong fight. See? Told you so.

God love ‘em, my friends then started giving me shit about the whole thing. Not that that worked out well. When asked if they’d have to hold my coffee while I politely excused myself for a little beat-down session, I responded that I would of course be employing the steaming hot beverage as an improvised scalding-beverage-grenade to the head. Use the weapons you have, right? Insert horrified looks from the coworkers here.

Perhaps there was discomfort with my outward admission of a disturbing reality – that men still have instincts to throw down, even in civilized situations. I wanted console my friends by telling them I had just found the situation funny because I’m more refined than that. But that’s not entirely true. While I could calmly tolerate the guy bull-charging me without getting into a knock-down fight, I would have shown him up by making nice with his lady friend, given the chance. No harm in being the alpha male, just a little bit.