Men, Morals, Masculinty and the Military.
Four Americans walk into a bar. Sounds like the beginning of some bad joke doesn’t it? Well, it may have started out as a joke, but manifested into a few lessons about morals and masculinity with some gun-ho US marines.
The first thing that I thought was weird, was that one of the American guys was wearing an Australian rugby jersey, even though the game was the night before, and even though the Wallabies had lost badly.
Lou, being a friendly bartender who knows that in general Americans tip, asked, “Did you go to the rugby last night?”
“No” he responded, “We just got in, but I was in Australia for a couple of months.”
Ok cool, sweet as, they sat down at a table, had a few beers and watched a repeat of the game. They were pretty chilled out and relaxed. They tried to spark up some conversations with me whenever I walked past, but an American choosing to back Australia instead of New Zealand so close to the Rugby World Cup doesn’t really have a chance.
I had them pegged as four cocky guys on holiday, maybe doing a Contiki tour or something, but then the next odd thing happened.
I got back from serving a table and I heard Lou giving directions to The Whitehouse.
I thought, is he seriously asking for directions to a strip club on a Sunday? And who asks a good looking girl for directions to a strip club, shouldn’t that be a private thing you consult with your friendGoogle ?
Then Lou got me involved, “Rose, do you know if The Whitehouse is open on a Sunday?”
“How would I know if The Whitehouse is open on a Sunday? But I don‘t think it would be, who would want to go to a strip club on a Sunday?”
And then the quiet one who hasn’t said all that much raises his hand.
“Come on give us a break, we’re only in town for one night, we just want to have a good time.”
“Sorry, not much goes on Sunday nights, you’ve planned it wrong.”
“Well it’s not like we had much choice in the matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“We leave for Tonga at 3am tomorrow, we're going to train their military, and we probably won't get another night off for a couple of months.”
So this led me down the rabbit hole of googling all the opening hours of strip clubs in Auckland, as I shook my head wondering why I was helping them objectify women. Showgirls is open after 7pm on Sundays, just FYI.
It was around 3pm, they had a long wait ahead of them before they could go see some naked women, and they felt like because I had helped them out, that was an invitation to talk to me at the bar. To be honest, I have never met any US marines before, so I was quite interested in hearing some of their stories.
The guy wearing the Australian rugby shirt made some shallow protests that he didn’t want to go to a strip club or look for prostitutes, he wanted to meet some “normal” girls. However the main guy was a little bit more honest, “I’m only in town for one night, I don’t want to put in the work of picking up a girl, I just want to be like “hey bitch” get in my car.”
Rugby shirt guy protested, “you can’t call girls bitches when you are talking to a girl.”
“So you should only call women “bitches” behind their backs?” I laughed.
They embodied everything that I thought military men were, just so macho, with such little respect for women, but I knew that I wasn’t really in any danger, because even though they were talking about strippers and prostitutes they were still trying to impress me, which gave me the upper hand because I wasn't impressed.
They complained about their job, understandably. They had been to Iraq and Afghanistan, and had watched their friends die around them. Rugby shirt guy said that when you break down their pay per hour it’s $2.38, but that is in terms of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I was like, hold on, but isn’t it your choice to be in the army?
Rugby shirt guy had just got out of college, and only planed to stay in the army for one term (which is four years). It was his choice to go into the army, because he wanted to make a difference, and support his country, fight for freedom and all that... The main guy came from a long line of men who had gone to war. It wasn’t a choice for him, it was expected. He also said that it was a decision of going to prison for life, or going into the army. He was doing his second term and planned to stay their until they kicked him out.
I asked why they would kick someone out who is willing to risk their life? One of the quiet dudes said that the military were laying people off at the moment, reasons: too fat, too old, too unfit.
He also said that in America they have a “hero” complex, that people look up to policemen and firefighters, and one way to be a “hero” was to go to war.
I started to feel sorry for these guys. They requested some songs and I put them on. I was surprised by their taste in music, I guess I was expecting Prodigy, “Smack my Bitch Up” or something. Instead they requested Modest Mouse “Float On”, and Owl City, “Vanilla Twilight”.
When “Vanilla Twilight" came on, the main guy, the one that referred to women as bitches, and asked where the strip clubs and prostitutes were, started to talk about his daughters. He said,
“Sometimes I miss my daughters more than I miss my wife.”
Lou shocked said, “You have a wife!?”
I was softer, and let him talk about his daughters for a couple of minutes, but then curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “Does your wife know what you do while you are overseas?”
“No of course not.”
Lou asked, “How many women have you been with while you have been married?”
He did the math. In six years, he had probably seen his wife for one of those years when you combine the time together, and he had slept with 12 other women (including massage parlours/prostitutes) during that time.
I was expecting this number to be much higher. It would suck to be his wife, but in a way, I could understand a man’s desire to have sex with a woman (in this case, 12) in the 5 years they had been apart.
“Do you think your wife cheats on you?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”
“Fair enough.”
I let them talk amongst themselves for a couple of minutes, until they started talking about the people they killed in a way that made it sound like they were bragging.
“Wait, are you seriously saying that you enjoy killing people?” I asked.
“What are you meant to do when someone is shooting at you?”
“Ok, I get that, sort of, when it’s in self defence, but the way you are talking about it, makes it sound like a game.”
“It’s the adrenaline rush of having someone in your scope and pulling the trigger.”
Rugby shirt guy said, “I think what she’s asking is the moral debate of if you could kill someone and have no consequences, would you?”
I wasn’t actually. I wasn’t aware that this was a moral debate. Surely the answer is that it is wrong to kill people! I had no idea that there was any moral leeway.
With a bemused look on my face I shrugged and said, “Something like that…”
“It depends who it is. Is it a man or a women, are they white or black, is it a child?”
Realising that I had mass murderers sitting at the bar, I had to escape for a bit. I went to see a table, and had the usual small talk about how pretty the South Island is.
When I came back, I think they realised that they had scared me, and toned back the conversation.
“So, do you just work here?”
“No, I’m a journalism student also.”
“Oh ok, where do you want to work?”
“Print media, newspapers or magazines, but I would love to do something more creative with my writing, I would love to write novels.”
“Series novels is where it’s at. Do you like Harry Potter or Twilight?”
“I love Harry Potter.”
The main guy lifted up his shirt and showed me a tattoo, it was a snake wrapped around a sword, and I realised it was the “dark mark.” There was also a symbol for the “deathly hallows” right beside it. He then pulled out his “dog tags” and under religion it said, “death eater.”
I smiled because I didn’t know what else to do. I am fairly certain that J.K. Rowling based Voldermort on dictators like Hitler, and Osama Bin Laden, yet here is a US marine who is supposed to be “one of the good guys” with symbols that support Voldermort, and evil.
Then once again, they surprised me as they talked about their shared love for the book Twilight, loved by mainly teenage girls all around the world. Rugby shirt guy said that a pit fall in the book was that it was written by a Mormon woman, so it was about how a woman should act in society.
The main guy chipped in, “Fuck I hate Jacob, anyone who kisses a girl against their will, well that’s pretty much rape.”
I could not believe my ears, the same guy who asked about strip clubs and prostitutes. The same guy who suggested that he enjoys killing people, gets wound up at a fictional character who kissed another fictional character against her will.
“Your morals are a bit…”
Rugby shirt guy, “I know exactly what you mean.”
The main guy says, “I have major respect for women, I only had a mom, my dad wasn’t around, and I’ve got two daughters. I would never do something a woman doesn’t want me to do.”
“Ah ok, so they have gone from bitches to women now have they?”
The others were itching to go to the strippers at this point, but the main guy said he was happy sitting at the bar talking to me, even if he doesn’t get laid that night.
With the others pretty much dragging him out of the bar, he said,
“Rose… how bout you ditch this place and come with me.”
As tempting as sleeping with a death eater who has a wife and two children, I politely declined his offer.
The first thing that I thought was weird, was that one of the American guys was wearing an Australian rugby jersey, even though the game was the night before, and even though the Wallabies had lost badly.
Lou, being a friendly bartender who knows that in general Americans tip, asked, “Did you go to the rugby last night?”
“No” he responded, “We just got in, but I was in Australia for a couple of months.”
Ok cool, sweet as, they sat down at a table, had a few beers and watched a repeat of the game. They were pretty chilled out and relaxed. They tried to spark up some conversations with me whenever I walked past, but an American choosing to back Australia instead of New Zealand so close to the Rugby World Cup doesn’t really have a chance.
I had them pegged as four cocky guys on holiday, maybe doing a Contiki tour or something, but then the next odd thing happened.
I got back from serving a table and I heard Lou giving directions to The Whitehouse.
I thought, is he seriously asking for directions to a strip club on a Sunday? And who asks a good looking girl for directions to a strip club, shouldn’t that be a private thing you consult with your friend
Then Lou got me involved, “Rose, do you know if The Whitehouse is open on a Sunday?”
“How would I know if The Whitehouse is open on a Sunday? But I don‘t think it would be, who would want to go to a strip club on a Sunday?”
And then the quiet one who hasn’t said all that much raises his hand.
“Come on give us a break, we’re only in town for one night, we just want to have a good time.”
“Sorry, not much goes on Sunday nights, you’ve planned it wrong.”
“Well it’s not like we had much choice in the matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“We leave for Tonga at 3am tomorrow, we're going to train their military, and we probably won't get another night off for a couple of months.”
So this led me down the rabbit hole of googling all the opening hours of strip clubs in Auckland, as I shook my head wondering why I was helping them objectify women. Showgirls is open after 7pm on Sundays, just FYI.
It was around 3pm, they had a long wait ahead of them before they could go see some naked women, and they felt like because I had helped them out, that was an invitation to talk to me at the bar. To be honest, I have never met any US marines before, so I was quite interested in hearing some of their stories.
The guy wearing the Australian rugby shirt made some shallow protests that he didn’t want to go to a strip club or look for prostitutes, he wanted to meet some “normal” girls. However the main guy was a little bit more honest, “I’m only in town for one night, I don’t want to put in the work of picking up a girl, I just want to be like “hey bitch” get in my car.”
Rugby shirt guy protested, “you can’t call girls bitches when you are talking to a girl.”
“So you should only call women “bitches” behind their backs?” I laughed.
They embodied everything that I thought military men were, just so macho, with such little respect for women, but I knew that I wasn’t really in any danger, because even though they were talking about strippers and prostitutes they were still trying to impress me, which gave me the upper hand because I wasn't impressed.
They complained about their job, understandably. They had been to Iraq and Afghanistan, and had watched their friends die around them. Rugby shirt guy said that when you break down their pay per hour it’s $2.38, but that is in terms of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I was like, hold on, but isn’t it your choice to be in the army?
Rugby shirt guy had just got out of college, and only planed to stay in the army for one term (which is four years). It was his choice to go into the army, because he wanted to make a difference, and support his country, fight for freedom and all that... The main guy came from a long line of men who had gone to war. It wasn’t a choice for him, it was expected. He also said that it was a decision of going to prison for life, or going into the army. He was doing his second term and planned to stay their until they kicked him out.
I asked why they would kick someone out who is willing to risk their life? One of the quiet dudes said that the military were laying people off at the moment, reasons: too fat, too old, too unfit.
He also said that in America they have a “hero” complex, that people look up to policemen and firefighters, and one way to be a “hero” was to go to war.
I started to feel sorry for these guys. They requested some songs and I put them on. I was surprised by their taste in music, I guess I was expecting Prodigy, “Smack my Bitch Up” or something. Instead they requested Modest Mouse “Float On”, and Owl City, “Vanilla Twilight”.
When “Vanilla Twilight" came on, the main guy, the one that referred to women as bitches, and asked where the strip clubs and prostitutes were, started to talk about his daughters. He said,
“Sometimes I miss my daughters more than I miss my wife.”
Lou shocked said, “You have a wife!?”
I was softer, and let him talk about his daughters for a couple of minutes, but then curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “Does your wife know what you do while you are overseas?”
“No of course not.”
Lou asked, “How many women have you been with while you have been married?”
He did the math. In six years, he had probably seen his wife for one of those years when you combine the time together, and he had slept with 12 other women (including massage parlours/prostitutes) during that time.
I was expecting this number to be much higher. It would suck to be his wife, but in a way, I could understand a man’s desire to have sex with a woman (in this case, 12) in the 5 years they had been apart.
“Do you think your wife cheats on you?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”
“Fair enough.”
I let them talk amongst themselves for a couple of minutes, until they started talking about the people they killed in a way that made it sound like they were bragging.
“Wait, are you seriously saying that you enjoy killing people?” I asked.
“What are you meant to do when someone is shooting at you?”
“Ok, I get that, sort of, when it’s in self defence, but the way you are talking about it, makes it sound like a game.”
“It’s the adrenaline rush of having someone in your scope and pulling the trigger.”
Rugby shirt guy said, “I think what she’s asking is the moral debate of if you could kill someone and have no consequences, would you?”
I wasn’t actually. I wasn’t aware that this was a moral debate. Surely the answer is that it is wrong to kill people! I had no idea that there was any moral leeway.
With a bemused look on my face I shrugged and said, “Something like that…”
“It depends who it is. Is it a man or a women, are they white or black, is it a child?”
Realising that I had mass murderers sitting at the bar, I had to escape for a bit. I went to see a table, and had the usual small talk about how pretty the South Island is.
When I came back, I think they realised that they had scared me, and toned back the conversation.
“So, do you just work here?”
“No, I’m a journalism student also.”
“Oh ok, where do you want to work?”
“Print media, newspapers or magazines, but I would love to do something more creative with my writing, I would love to write novels.”
“Series novels is where it’s at. Do you like Harry Potter or Twilight?”
“I love Harry Potter.”
The main guy lifted up his shirt and showed me a tattoo, it was a snake wrapped around a sword, and I realised it was the “dark mark.” There was also a symbol for the “deathly hallows” right beside it. He then pulled out his “dog tags” and under religion it said, “death eater.”
I smiled because I didn’t know what else to do. I am fairly certain that J.K. Rowling based Voldermort on dictators like Hitler, and Osama Bin Laden, yet here is a US marine who is supposed to be “one of the good guys” with symbols that support Voldermort, and evil.
Then once again, they surprised me as they talked about their shared love for the book Twilight, loved by mainly teenage girls all around the world. Rugby shirt guy said that a pit fall in the book was that it was written by a Mormon woman, so it was about how a woman should act in society.
The main guy chipped in, “Fuck I hate Jacob, anyone who kisses a girl against their will, well that’s pretty much rape.”
I could not believe my ears, the same guy who asked about strip clubs and prostitutes. The same guy who suggested that he enjoys killing people, gets wound up at a fictional character who kissed another fictional character against her will.
“Your morals are a bit…”
Rugby shirt guy, “I know exactly what you mean.”
The main guy says, “I have major respect for women, I only had a mom, my dad wasn’t around, and I’ve got two daughters. I would never do something a woman doesn’t want me to do.”
“Ah ok, so they have gone from bitches to women now have they?”
The others were itching to go to the strippers at this point, but the main guy said he was happy sitting at the bar talking to me, even if he doesn’t get laid that night.
With the others pretty much dragging him out of the bar, he said,
“Rose… how bout you ditch this place and come with me.”
As tempting as sleeping with a death eater who has a wife and two children, I politely declined his offer.
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