I Love Hooters (A Blog Swap)

A month ago, I agreed to a deal with a group of male bloggers to do a blog-for-blog exchange on male-centric themes. There was supposed to be six of us swapping stories, helping get some traffic to each other's sites; but like the gender stereotype, four of the guys completely forgot (or sloughed it off).

This was all part of the evolutionary process.  We
bloggers  have perfected the human genome.  

So now, just myself and Mike Finazzo, host of The Moral of the Story Is, will be swapping blogs this week. Like a true man, he sent his opening article over with the title: I Love Hooters. Thanks...Mike.

What did I get myself into? (I think this is the reason I don't do blog swaps). You can read what I wrote on his site, here. Michael's, however, is quite funny, and almost redeeming, so here it is....

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That’s right, I love Hooters.  Since Part 1 of the No Ma’am Blog Week is to talk about things that women don’t understand about me, I’m sure someone out there is scoffing.  You may be 

I looked to see where the closest Hooters is in Oregon, and
low and behold, we have one in Portland.  Only in Portland
do we objectify men. (Love the girl's face in the background).  

asking yourself what you’ve managed to click on?  It’s even possible some of you expected deeper thought processes or intimate sharing from my soul.  You could easily say, “Of course you like Hooters, men are pigs.”  Well, that may be true.  I won’t debate that here today.  Before you get too far fixated on the female anatomy, I’m not speaking of females or the female body at all.  I love Hooters, but I’m speaking directly about the delicious buffalo wing.

For those of you that don’t know me, I’m going to explain something right up front. I’m not one of those bloggers who was smart enough to monetize my writing. I don’t have a nifty kickback agreement with the good folks that make buffalo wings.  In full disclosure, I’m lucky to get a second free refill on my Mountain Dew while I dine. I wish I could tell you this is a product placement sham, but it just isn’t the case. One last thought on the product name dropping today, while I have no agreement with Hooters, if anyone reading this wants to give me one...have your people get in touch with my people.  

I thought this might be something that many women really don’t understand about men. I’ve heard it all when I tell a female that I love Hooter wings. The chorus of “Yea right” or “I’m sure you do” have equally been matched by eye rolls and disgusted snorts. Here’s the thing ladies, I really do love Hooter wings. I even proved to my wife that I do.

While my wife and I were still dating, I would suggest from time to time that we get Hooter wings for dinner. She never said much, but would routinely give me a variation of “no thanks”. Not everyone likes a buffalo wing so I never really pushed it. I don’t recall the circumstances, but one night (this was after we were living together) we had to dine separate. As couples do sometimes, we each had things going on and would not be able to share dinner time. I saw this as a golden opportunity and ordered take out Hooter wings for dinner.

I’ll never forget the look of confusion on her face when I walked into our apartment with my bag of wings. She couldn’t fathom I had went, got their food and brought it home to eat. So she inquired:

Wings make everyone look dignified.  

Girlfriend: What ya got there?

Me: Hooter Wings

Girlfriend: Seriously??

Me: Yea, I’ve had a taste for wings for a long time but you never want to go.

Girlfriend: I just thought you went to stare at women

Me: NO, I LOVE the food.

Girlfriend: Oh…

Here’s why you can you know my words on the subject are true. Do I protest that my food in the restaurant is brought to me by a female in tiny shorts and tank top? No, I haven’t written a single letter to Hooters corporate management in regards to sexualizing women. I equally haven’t been disgusted when a visually pregnant women in a full shirt brought them to me. I don’t give a rats rip if they have dudes wearing garbage bags just throw them across the restaurant. Once every couple of months I will need to fulfill my Hooters fix.  

 So, what is it women don’t understand?  Men don’t stay 13-years-olds forever.  Outfits are cute, but food keeps my attention.  

The moral of the story is, hooter wings are awesome.

It's cases like this, that make me think Hooters doesn't
understand its female employees.