I was at Spats last night with a few friends enjoying the Long Island Iced Teas we’d “won” by spending $14 and spinning the wheel. I asked my friend L if she went home with the cute guy we met in line at Hoodslam. “He was too bro-ey,” she replied. “Smarty pants trapped in the body of a bro?” I offered. “No, just a bro bro.”
What makes a bro a bro? I first have a physical image in mind. He’s 5’9” and has muscly arms that impede his ability to walk. He wears a buttoned down shirt, a Patagonia vest, and a baseball cap backwards. Personality wise, a bro calls his friends bros (or is it bras?), lives in the Marina, drinks cheap beer (or Long Island Iced Tea?), and works in finance.
My friends agreed that the Marina part is accurate thought that a bro is more likely to work as a programmer. That’s a brogrammer; I’ve seen Silicon Valley. They also said that the defining characteristic of a bro is that he’s an entitled asshole. It’s bad to be an entitled asshole. Having muscly arms and fist bumps are fine.