Is It Harder To Find Girlfriends Or Dude Friends?

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Is It Harder To Find Girlfriends Or Dude Friends?
Miami man seeks bromance via Craigslist.

According to AllTop.com (in the Holy Kaw category), a man, at the end of his wits, doubtless, attempted to use Craigslist to find a best bro. Essentially, this guy is looking for a straight Will to his clearly non-female Grace. This Miami guy is sick (and, likely, tired) of sniffing after tail in the vicious, saline and saltwater world of the South Florida mating scene. Read: MTV Co-Opts Bromance

This man still wants to go to bars, but he needs a best Bro-Magnon of like mindset. And the mindset is this: forget the rules of society—and particularly of the Darwinian nightmare that is South Beach—and just be. Clearly, a bro-gram like this cannot be undertaken solo, especially when you appreciate things like barhopping and dropping humorous, satirical comments that only a literate or savvy compatriot might ken. This Waldorf needs his Statler, and stat.

My theory has always been that it's actually harder to find good guy friends after the age of 25 than it is to find a lady friend. If you think it's hard to find a good place to find dates, think about how tough it is to find a decent brony. Most of a fella's buds, particularly like-minded ones, come from growing up, college, work or hobbies.

I myself have been on the losing end of this equation. On moving to a new town, I had only a medium difficult time meeting ladies, and I am almost entirely without romantic guile. Meeting worthwhile dudes was significantly more difficult. Many of my coworkers were older to significantly older, and the "I like to party" quotient was lacking in extremis. In fact, upon getting lunch with me, one of my colleagues likened my taste in music to that of his 15-year-old daughter who, in all fairness, I was much closer to in age. In my personal life, most of my hobbies brought me into contact with very excitable members of the Navy and Marine Corps. To them, I was an old guy (despite being only 24), who couldn't rage hard enough. Eventually, some righteous dudes moved in next door to me and I entreated them with a handle (1.75 liters) of vodka, an evening of nearly-toxic margaritas and a can-do frattitude. As I recall, we were mere weeks away from hoisting each aother up for keg stands, playing tackle football and eating manwiches with our shirts off. Read: 4 Signs You're More Than Friends