Douché! Let’s Keep it Clean
Want to come out of a conflict smelling like a rosé? Douché! Tweet
Highlights
We want to Make Douches Great Again.
Douches have done so much for humanity.
Its present use is back-assward. It’s not ironic; it is dumb.
Douché: a retort delivered with enough wit and savoir-faire that the shower’s recipient cracks a smile (e.g., “Douché, My Friend; well done!”).
Our Plan: Make Douches Great Again. The contemporary, popular use of the word needs refining. It’s a great word that is not used well.
The common, informal use of “douche” is aimed at an obnoxious or contemptible person—typically used by a man as an ad hominem attack on another dude (as in “that guy is such a douche”). This doesn’t seem fair. Douches have done so much for humanity.
History Lesson for Millennials: “douche” is French for a “shower of water.” In upside-down places such as New Zealand and French Polynesia, it’s called a bidet—“a device for washing out a vagina.” Same goal: make men’s favorite place better—like a Summer’s Eve!
The PM is decidedly pro-douche, and we are appealing to men’s good sense to join us in a national effort to stop using “douche” improperly.
Its present use is back-assward. It’s not ironic; it is dumb. We are attributing “douche” to a dirty vagina or cunt of a man in need of a douche.
Our Proposed Solution:
The PM is decidedly pro-douche, and we are appealing to men’s good sense to join us in a national effort to stop using “douche” improperly.
Douché: a conflation of touché—a term “used as an acknowledgment during a discussion of a good or clever point made at one’s expense by another person.” …also used in fencing when a sword fighter strikes or stabs their opponent.
The proper, PM use of “douché” is when you call attention to another’s social foul at their expense—it’s said for a reason—but delivered with enough wit and savoir-faire that the shower’s recipient cracks a smile (e.g., “Douché, My Friend; well done!”).
The Hygiene Brothers: douche and douché together make that which they touch better. They are in alignment—showers of water and wit that keep away unwanted odors. It’s a term of truth in jest art, in response to overly Alpha or mangina-odorous emissions. A couple of well-played “douchés” can clean the air in a friendship—short of a clarifying fight or bro break-up.
It’s an art form Australians have raised to a cultural vernacular. (Aussies are masters at “douché.”)
“What I love about Guy is that he is a slow burn,” my buddy, Craig, said at the conclusion of a rant I was on. (He’s an exemplary representative of that penal nation.)
“Douché, Dundee. I am a raging dumpster fire. Well done,” I countered.
Join the douché revolution—spray it forward.
Best,
Guy
