@TuckerMax tweet: "Pic of Me Being Served" " />
I come from an often overlooked and largely unrepresented faction of males that I like tocall the Reformed Douchebags.You see them all the time in real life -- a guy you knew in high school who was once knownfor loudly voicing his multiple ascents to the summit of Ass Mountain in between breathsof a world-record keg-stand. Fifteen years later, you'll run into him at the grocery storeand be floored by his conservative attire and the fatherly way he tells his kids, "No, youdon't need any more candy. Now get in the car before I set you on fire."Thereis a reason these guys aren't represented in mainstream media: We don't go to the zoo tosee monkeys eat and clean their fur. We want to see them pressing their balls against theglass and flinging sh*t at each other in a psychotic monkey rage.Tim Tebow, Tucker Max - or nothing

We want to see the extremes, with Tim Tebow on oneend and TuckerMax on the other. You don't have to look very far for proof. I don't think it'spossible to go a full day without hearing at least one Tebow joke. And Tucker can back meup with sheer numbers. His last two books sold two million copies.Personalities like these drive massive media traffic because they attract opposing sidesof the male spectrum. The guys who are still in the throes of their boner-wielding 20sthrow their fists in the air with a resounding, "Hell, yeah! Preach on, brother!" Theolder, more reserved men find those guys to be their personal moral garbage dump. It's aharmless way for them to scoff through their monocles and say, "Look at that idiot. He'llbe dead before his 50th birthday." Shows like Jersey Shore are based entirelyaround this concept, and it works.Tucker knows this. In fact, he recentlyannounced in an interview with Forbes that he's "retiring" from thelifestyle. He's growing up. And that in itself is considered news.Giving up the game

We all go through it at some point, whether it's tapping the brakes on a race-car sexlife or realizing that drinking more booze than water isn't as cute and wacky when you'rea 40-year-old man with a career and kids of your own. Teen hormones are nature's nitrousoxide, but if you don't eventually switch to unleaded, you're going to blow the wholegoddamn engine."When" to switch fuel isn't as much about age as it is aboutwhere you want to be in life in any given time frame. Yes, it's possible to make a livingwhile existing in full party mode, but it's far from probable. Do you want to be a doctor?Then it's probably best not to spend your study time doing Jell-O shots out of astripper's cleavage. Do you want to start a family? It might be agood idea to make it a goal to be the father who is actually around and sober for hischildren.That's not to say you can't still have fun and let loose. Far fromit. I don't know any parents who give up their New Year's party or at least find theoccasional babysitter so they can just get away. But if you think you can have kids andstill spend every other night closing down a bar, you may need to pull up Google and enterthe word "priorities.” You can do this now. We'll wait.Are you happywith your job and have no plans of having kids? That's absolutely fine. There are millionsof guys out there just like you. But, at some point, the ones who don't want to end up asJim Morrison, minus the fame and money (and enormous beard), have to make a consciousdecision to slow the hell down. That's a hard decision to make and even harder to pulloff.But let's take that one step further and say that you're invincible -- atrue paragon of health and liver regeneration. The next time you go out, take a good lookaround the bar or club or vampire orgy (I'm not current on what types of parties are"in"). I promise you that before the end of the night, you will see at least one guy who,with just a little analysis, will freak you right the hell out.The man no man wants to become

He's the one sitting by himself, sipping a mixed drink. He's wearing enough cologne thatyou can smell it outside the bar. If you subtract 15 years from the calendar, his clotheswould be in style. The bartender knows his name and his drink without him saying a word.He's leaning against the bar like he hasn't a care in the world, gray hair bobbingslightly to music that you know for a fact he doesn't like. He's casually scanning thecrowd, like a drunken Terminator, searching for any woman who's just the right level ofbuzzed. Drunk enough that her inhibitions are thinned, but not enough to pass out orvomit. He's hunting, and his eyes are on the girls your age. And it is creepy as hell.That's you in 20 years if you fail to find your "off" switch. Or at the veryleast, your "Holy sh*t, this is no longer my element" switch. We all go through it. Guysin their 20s will probably read this and laugh, thinking, "Not me. I'm happy doing exactlywhat I'm doing. I'm enjoying life to its fullest." Again, that's perfectly fine. Just knowthat there are millions of Reformed Douchebags out there just like me who are cleaning ourmonocles as we speak. Continue Reading

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