For those of you familiar with the show (having recommended this show to anyone willing to listen, I know there are at least a few of you out there), I am sure you think you know where this is going . . . but you do not. This is not a post about a open casting call for three people to form a group of friends who sit at a bar every night, drinking beer and making memories (though, come to think of it, my Better Half and I do make the perfect Marshmallow and Lilypad, and there's a great bar not too far from our place . . . so if you're a moderately successful guy who gets stuck in his head too much, an attractive Canadian female, or a super-sketchy womanizer, feel free to drop me a line). Oh no, my dear readers, the purpose is much greater than that.
Since I do not want to ruin last night's episode for those of you who may not have seen it yet, I will be as careful as possible with what I am about to say: Barney is the man! There, I hope I did not ruin it for you.
If you watch HIMYM, you undoubtedly love Barney Stinson; women want him and men want to be him (some men might want him as well . . . don't worry, I won't judge). Over the course of the first two-and-a-half seasons, we hear Barney recount conquest after conquest over women who might not be the sharpest pencil in the box or have the highest self-esteem, but we do not mind. It has just come to be expected from Barney because he is the most awesomest, and he lives by "The Code." We hear it referenced throughout the first two-and-a-half seasons, but last night we were officially introduced to The Bro Code. Written around the same time as The Constitution, The Bro Code is a code we (we as in all men) have lived by since our birth; it is in our genes. The Bro Code, according to Barney, includes the obvious [Bros before Hos, or, A bro will, in a timely manner, alert his bro to the existence of a girl fight (or the UCLA Cheer Squad try-outs . . . you can thank me later bro)] and the not-so-obvious [Though the mom of a Bro is always off limits, the step-mom of a Bro is allowed if she initiates it and is wearing at least one article of leopard-print clothing].
As I spent last night reflecting on the episode, I began to realize that there just might be something to the theory that The Bro Code is in our (men) blood. No one ever taught me the ways of the "wingman", I just knew; no one ever taught me not to sleep with my friend's ex, I just knew. But at the same time, I could remember countless instances where friends, relatives, and fraternity brothers nearly came to blows (well, in a few instances, did come to blows) over something that may or may not have happened . . . usually involving a girl. This, of course, made me realize that, like the laws I interpret everyday, this genetic "bro code" we have inside of us has a lot of gray areas; what we need is a concrete set of rules, rules to guide us through the ins and outs of being a bro.
Turning to the old reliable internet (if it exists, Google will find it), I discovered that no one has created the all-encompassing Bro Code. Sure, there is the lame "Man Law" (I'm sure we all remember those awful commercials that Miller Brewing Co. subjected us to), but that does not cut it. So this, ladies and gentlemen, is my calling: I will write The Bro Code. But I will not write it alone, oh no. The burden of writing such a historical document (like the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bible) is too great for one man to carry. So I have (am) turned (turning) to my friends and family . . . nay . . . all men to join in this quest. It shall be a living document, fluid and ever breathing. If you would like to be a part of this monumental undertaking, do not hesitate to contact to me.
The Bro Code, it is my calling . . . and I shall answer.
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