I am not an alpha male. I’m not much in the way of a leader, and I’m not exactly what you might call “smooth” with the ladies. I’m socially awkward and generally fairly anxious to get away from other people.
Most people scare me in general, actually.
I don’t think I’m a beta male, either, though. I’m far from quiet and non-confrontational. It could very well be my completely inept ability to follow social laws like, “Don’t tell people they smell like cabbage and sour milk,” or “It’s inappropriate to announce loudly in public that you think people should be publicly executed via crowbar for using food stamps to buy cheese cakes.”
I’m an enigma.
On the one hand, I don’t really want to start fights, but on the other hand, it has become ingrained in me to automatically say what I’m thinking. It’s probably a good thing that I’m also pretty danged big. Most of the time, no one calls me on my insane ranting.
I think as a strange social experiment I’m going to spend some time pushing the limits of what I can get away with a bit more every day. I don’t know if that’s really me trying to become more alpha, or if it is just the result of the special potion I’ve been drinking.
I only take about 6 doses a day.It might seem like a healthy mixture of water, flavors, and vitamin-B, but really its a giant hormonal cocktail that makes me think about how much I should kick things. No really, I’ll be sitting at the coffee machine, you know, waiting for it to warm up or whatever, and I’ll just think to myself:
NOW IS THE TIME FOR ME TO KICK!
So I do.
Surely someday soon there will be people coming to take me away to the padded rooms and locked cells, but I’ve got a plan for that, too. It involves helicopters and hot air balloons. They’ll never suspect it.