I Hate This and I Can't Wait
Pinky Promises and True Masculinity
On the commute home from work the other day, I was walking the final stretch from the train to my flat.
As I passed a popular pub frequented by tradies finishing up for the day, my eyes landed on a young bloke sat on an outside table, schooner of generic lager parked in front of him.
An orange hi-vis jacket tried its best to blend him in amongst his peers, however the baby face and wispy bumfluff arranged into an attempted moustache gave his apprenticeship away clearly.
He mouthed various words excitedly to his group of actual men, though I couldn’t hear him at this point. Having been a young one trying to impress the bigger boys once myself, I understood that he was trying to fit in and find his place within the group.
The other, grizzled blokes listened patiently. One replying earnestly to whatever the topic of conversation was.
I drew closer and the apprentice’s voice reached my ears.
“Mate, thanks so much. I really appreciate that!” he exclaimed to one of the blokes.
He extended his hand out towards the man. Closed his fist and extended his little finger.
Oh, my friend. Oh, no no no.
My heart broke for the young blood as the lads broke into raucous laughter.
“We don’t pinky promise here mate. But you’re welcome. I’ve got ya” replied the man with a big smile, before shaking the boy’s hand properly.
I smiled too, a little surprised as I passed their table and the conversation moved on to a different topic and their voices faded into the humdrum of background noise.
Does the young bloke deserve to be reminded of that moment often for the rest of his life? Absolutely.
Should the lads call him by a new nickname moving forward? Yep. You’re “Pinky” and every other derivative from this moment on mate.
Should the other lads have absolutely battered him with insults, or written him off as an idiot who doesn’t belong in their realm of masculinity? Definitely not.
It was a genuinely lovely little interaction. Stereotypes would suggest a group of tradesmen, dirty and rough around the edges, would have torn this lad a new one with borderline bullying. Every day on the job after that being hell for this guy, all because of one misguided phalange extension.
It made me so happy to see men promoting decent, true masculinity. Not some bravado-ridden, self-hatred fuelled toxicity my gender is notorious for.
Speaking of which.
Today, the world will witness history.
On President Donald Trump’s 80th birthday, he will host a UFC event named “Freedom 250” on the White House lawn. The first combat sport event at the White House since Teddy Roosevelt’s era.
In a striking display of narcissism and ego, Trump’s own personal gladiatorial circus will attract swathes of men who think they know what masculinity is, but couldn’t be further from it.
Although we all know the guest list is more notable for who’s not attending, it’s probably safe to assume we’ll see a few of the following dick-havers in attendance.
Elon Musk. As of today, the world’s first trillionaire. If you won $100m on the lottery, every week for a year, for one hundred years, you wouldn’t have accumulated half of Elon’s wealth. Everyone’s favourite heil-ing, ketamine addicted, serial breeder is responsible for thousands of deaths due to his meme-government agency cutting funding to USAID.
Yet, this doesn’t deter the LinkedIn sycophants from guzzling his South African boerewors in pathetic attempts for senpai to notice them.
Joe Rogan. Once a bastion of progression and acceptance in his early JRE days, Joe continues his descent into grumpy boomer. Consistently believing and sharing AI slop, and seemingly unable to get through a conversation without bringing up COVID, Rogan’s head has grown so full of his own bullshit he regularly argues with genuine experts over the latest bro-science he’s latched onto. I miss when he promoted Fleshlights, those were the days.
Netanyahu has been extended an invite, although he’s probably busy eliminating an entire population from the Earth in the name of his favourite sky-daddy. Or brainwashing young Jewish children into believing brown people are sub-human. Or washing his hair.
Dana White. The kingpin. Mr free-speech. A man so red it’s surprising Musk hasn’t experimented on him thinking he’s a Martian. What he’s done for MMA is undeniable, and the sport wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. But is that a good thing? The world’s best fighters are putting their health on the line, in front of a wannabe-emperor for a 12/12 purse.
Dana, once a young maverick taking on the ‘powers that be’ to get his unknown sport taken seriously has morphed into a morally bankrupt, frugal, swollen monopoly guy. Constantly touting his advocacy for free speech, yet banning the only American champion from an event meant to be celebrating AMERICA.
All of these men contain not one iota of true masculinity akin to what that tradie displayed outside a Sydney pub on a Wednesday evening.
Even Sean “Broken Clock” Strickland is coming out of this debacle looking like the most reasonable man in the room. Although I’m sure the people’s champion will ruin it before long with some racist or bigoted comment.
If it isn’t evident yet, I am of the opinion that UFC Freedom 250 is a trashy, cult-appeasing, masturbatory event to please a pathetic old rapist as he rapidly approaches his own mortality.
Some of the world’s most powerful men will convene to watch immigrants fight for their entertainment in a personal gladiatorial circus erected by other immigrants.
And I’ll be watching every second of it.
Because I’m a hypocrite and let’s not pretend this card isn’t fucking STACKED.
Here’s my picks:
Diego Lopes vs. Steve Garcia — Lopes by submission.
Bo Nickal vs. Kyle Daukaus — Kyle by dec. Though Bo will come out even more insufferable, somehow.
Mauricio Ruffy vs. Michael Chandler — Ruffy all day, KO I reckon. Michael won’t fight again in the UFC.
Josh Hokit vs. Derrick Lewis — Man, I love Derrick so much. If he wants it, it’s his. But I have a sneaky feeling the humidity will gas him in 30 seconds and Hokit will take the W.
Sean O’Malley vs. Aiemann Zahabi — I’m so tired of the UFC forcing Sean on me, it’s so hamfisted. I like the guy though, and he really needs an impressive win today or it’s bye bye suga. Sean by TKO.
Alex Pereira vs. Ciryl Gane — If the big French bastard can manage not to eye-fuck Poatan with his index finger, this should be a banger. I’m English—we all know who I’m rooting for. Chama.
Ilia Topuria vs. Justin Gaethje — Ilia by possibly the most horrendous knockout ever seen in round two. Sorry Justin, you genuinely don’t stand a chance.
USA! USA! USA!
I’ve partnered with Raised - a new, clean energy bar created for athletes!
Ol’ Donny seems like he needs all the energy he can get to stay awake these days, so when you use my code at checkout, I’ll personally match your order to send to the President himself.
Made locally in northern New South Wales by Darcy and Jess, this snack contains everything you need to be a menace on the mats.
With three amazing flavours to choose from; tropical açai, chocolate & roasted almond and salted caramel, each bar contains all-natural sugars and high quality collagen. Gluten-free, dairy-free and soy-free ensures no Jiu Jitsu players are excluded.
I’ve legitimately stopped using energy drinks before training now and eat one of these instead — they’re much cleaner, healthier and actually work! After a long day’s work they are perfect to give you that pre-training boost needed to get through your session.
Get yours by clicking HERE or using the code WARRIORFUNK at checkout to get a extra 2 bars on your first order, completely free!



