Here’s the deal: Sometimes, I don’t want bacon. Sometimes, I just want an unadulterated, bacon-less burger and I want to enjoy it without the added artery-clogging meat sticks. Unfortunately, this decision usually translates to, “Yes, I have a small penis and if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my balls, as I think they’ve rolled off somewhere.”

Don’t get me wrong, bacon is fucking delicious, but when my manhood is judged by my eating choices, we’ve got a problem. I’ll pass on flexing at the dinner table any day to enjoy a hearty salad chock full of tasty-ass croutons and feta cheese. And if I have to choose between vodka shots and a tequila sunrise, I’ll take the latter player.

Disagree? Well, here’s a polite fuck you. To everyone else, this piece is for you:

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1. Tucking My Napkin Into My Shirt Collar

During my adolescence, my mother always tucked my napkin into my shirt collar before sitting down at a public dinner. Why? Because like every other fuckhead of a child, my shirt was always a splash zone of whatever red-hued spaghetti and hummus I was putting my face into. Even the classiest of eaters are bound to get some residue on the splash zone that is their dinner shirt. In my teens, I was raw-dogging my dinners. When my mom was no longer spot-checking my eating habits, I opted against looking like a lame at the dinner table. I was 19 for God’s sake, what would the bitches think if I was tucking a cloth napkin into my shirt on dates?!

It wasn’t until a few dinner dates around the age of 23 that I realized Hey, you’re  going to get laid far less than you think, your shirt might as well be clean. The reality was clear — the foods I eat now are no less messy than when I was younger, and now I’m solely responsible for not only washing that shirt the next day, but living with the shitty ketchup grimace stain for the rest of my night if that napkin sneeze guard wasn’t on full-tuck.

So on my next sequence of dates, I threw my cares into the proverbial wind and tucked my napkin into my shirt. The act achieved a few solid giggles and endearing looks from the one-off girls that had sat across from me on those tables, and from then on out, I never looked back. TUCK THAT SHIT IN PLAYERS.

2. Whatever Drink I Want, Including That Umbrella Mojito

I love a good beer as much as the next guy, but nothing saddens me more than a “grown man” going out of his way to avoid the deliciousness of a mojito on the grounds of its female connotations. HAVE YOU TASTED A MOJITO?! IT’S FANTASTIC.

Same sentiments can go to LA Waters, Moscow Mules, vodka cranberries (get your digestion right!), sangria, and Mai Tais — the list is unfortunately, and embarrassingly long. Enjoying a drink of the “female variety” can not only benefit your taste buds from time-to-time, but it can open up some great conversation at the club.

3. Yes, I Will Take A Chaser With That Shot

“Bro, this vodka is hella smooth, you don’t need a chaser!”

No. There is no vodka smooth enough that you could argue it trumps the taste of a vodka chased with and/or prefaced with a sip of soda, cranberry juice or a quick rip of Red Bull.

4. I’m Going To Suck Through This Straw, You Cool With That?

The phallic discourse involved with men and women using straws to aid in consuming their beverages has been going on for years. Men are often pigeon-holed into not using the straws to avoid being childish, silly or having their manhood questioned. But why should the straw be reserved for only a certain segment of people?

Don’t I also drink cold drinks that need to be squirted directly into the back of my mouth to avoid the terrible frostbite that undoubtedly wave-crashes into my teeth if I didn’t have a straw? Don’t I want to avoid staining my teeth when I’m consuming soda? Maybe I hate the feeling of ice cubes careening against my lips and teeth when I’m going straight into the cup?

I’m going to use the straw and I’m going to look good doing it.

5. I Love Salad…Yeah, That’s My Entrée

I love salad, and I just might order one as an entrée if i’m so inclined. Why would I deprive myself of all the amazing varieties and flavors the vegetable, meat and dressing kingdoms provide? In fact, I’m eating a Mexican-inspired Kale Caesar salad from a joint across the street from our office right now. Had been too shy to order this while my macho workmate Tommy Buzeli was ordering up his steak torta, I would have missed out on the flavor provided by freshly-baked and buttered croutons, marinated corn, and a lime-cilantro caesar dressing that’s literally having sex with my insides right now.

7. You Look Like A Man, Do You Want Bacon With That?

Bacon has seemingly become synonymous with manhood, and frankly, it’s tiring.

Chicken sandwich, do you want bacon with that? If I say yes, I’m a man and I obviously have a pension for salty goodness — if I say no, an entire set of implications will come along with that answer.  Am I watching my weight? My health? Is my penis size under the national average? Am I against Ron Swanson’s entire set of beliefs?

Just because your restaurant has a “bacon upgrade” to your already delicious ice cream sundae doesn’t mean I want it. Seriously, I know how good bacon is — but I also know the flavors I like, and chocolate sprinkles, bananas and whipped cream are plenty-a-topping for my ice cream sundae.

8. I Know You’re A Dude, But Want To Go To Champagne Brunch This Sunday?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Not sure why girls stereotypically got latched on to this fantastic Sunday past time, but there’s no reason you and your bros can’t find a dope restaurant to get a sunday morning buzz on at. Breakfast food is the best food, and when it’s coupled with bottomless anything, specifically booze, it’s just a beautiful way to forget that the following day is Monday.