Douchey bitch-boy behavior exists in many forms. Some of them smell like Axe body spray, and shotgun Natural Light. Others are effete faggots. They have extended conversations about where they fill their growler, or what Judd Apatow is doing next. They cling to their dude-bros like ants in column, with hardly a thought between them.
There is no reason for Bromance. None.
The kind of guy who goes on “man-dates” with his homeboys is one step away from chocolate and red wine in the bathtub. That puts him two steps away from smoking cock. If a man is that desperate for sympathy, for comfort, for approval, then he is not a man. He is a woman with a penis, looking for absolution to fill the gaping void of unmanliness in his flabby chest.
Man-dates are opportunities for boys to sit around seeking sympathy for their various failings. They are asking for one anothers’ approval to mitigate their feelings of inadequacy. Asking is begging, and begging is contemptible.