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We Mormon men are a bunch of weenies. As I’ve gone to lunch and bonded with other men at my job, we’re so cordial and good-natured, laughing at the things the others say, as if we’re teenagers on first dates with each other, never getting to any meat. It’s pathetic. I wish we were Hell’s Angels, and we weren’t afraid to burst into roaring laughter, slapping each other on the back, and pounding the table with frothy mugs. Because surely that’s what Hell’s Angels do.

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