I made men oil up and fight "to the death" to even out the gender ratio in SF

no more gender imbalance! you're welcome!

I may not be “the face that launch’d a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ilium,"¹ but I am the face that launched a thousand tech bros to beat the shit out of each other with inflatables, and I think that’s just as powerful.

oiled up men fighting, photo credits to the talented Ryan Grasell

It all started because I was craving violence, so I sort of A/B tested fighting ring ideas by making posters and putting them on the street. Idea A: a “men’s fight to the death” to fix the gender ratio in SF. Idea B: a “couple’s fighting ring” to help spice up your relationship.

POV: You're walking down Market Street and see some intriguing flyers...

A friend posted Idea A on Twitter and it immediately blew up, so I felt obliged to make it real.

twitter

For Non-San-Franciscans, "The Ratio" is a common term used by tech bros to lament that there’s more men than women in their circles, and that's the sole reason why they're struggling to get any. Used in sentence: "Damn bro The Ratio at this AI-biohacking climbing party sucks" and "I can't deal with The Ratio, I need to move to New York where I will still get rejected, but at least by many more women."

However, while many men complain about The Ratio, none are creating B2B SaaS (Boy to Boy, Slaying as a Solution) ways to fix it. So I stepped up.

Party invite!

funny comments on the invite + signup

I contacted the SF Transbay Joint Powers Authority Bay to see if I could actually host the fight in Salesforce Park, but they respectfully declined. (Said it would cost $6,000.)

I thought it’d be funny to have the men fight shirtless, and the natural next thought was to make them oil up before they fight. You see, as a feminist, I am sick and tired of the objectification of women, and the best solution is to objectify men just as much. That way, the baseline of “objectification” is raised and relatively no one is objectified.

I’ve already made people strip (for CHARITY, it’s altruistic) so making them fight just seemed like the natural next step. Interestingly, there was a lot of overlap between the strip show and the fighting ring: the pole kittens became the ring girl/boy, there was a strong element of performance, each contender had an alias. The fighters were actually much more sexualized because they were shirtless and oiled up, whereas the strip show was surprisingly wholesome.

Serendipitously, my friend Samuel Sliman (or as you may know him, “Thomas The Spank Engine” from Strippers for Charity) had experience running a meme fighting ring. (He challenged the frontrunner of his college’s presidential race to a boxing match, and although some claim he “lost” the fight, he won the people’s hearts and earned the presidency.) Sam suggested using inflatable boxing gloves to minimize liability.

Because I am highly dedicated to my craft, we did a trial run of the duel. After getting sloshed on $1 margs at my weekly “office hours,” we went to one of those fancy gentrified parks and beat the shit out of each other.

^Me and Greta fighting, never say I don’t practice what I preach. (Violence.)

I made a playlist of appropriate music, including Kung Fu Fighting, Eye of The Tiger, the Wii Sports Theme, and songs from Pokemon, Mario, Super Smash Bros, and Naruto. I had my friends vote on the best oil for the men, and baby oil won. I later realized this may’ve been due to the Diddy meme, but by then it was too late to change.

Sffuncheap shared the event and called me a cultural renegade (I’m blushing). I found it really funny that they added so much context to the event. Like, what’s confusing you babyboy?

they linked to my substack! and didn’t even tell me lol. I only found out because people subscribed to me and the source said “sffuncheap”

Day of, as we were staking out the location for the fight, we saw a huge children’s party, so we stayed far away (responsibly). We did end up near a baby shower, but that was for adults. Their gender reveal showed it was a boy, so a bunch of oiled up boys fighting nearby was a fitting peek into their future.

check in and oiling station

Patrick brought his folding table on a bike. Everybody say thank you Patrick.

Patrick and his table on a bike

People kept coming up to me and asking what the inspiration for the fight was. And I was like, “well I thought it would be funny.” I don’t understand what’s so confusing about this. It was funny - I was literally right.

Sam refereed the match, we actually showed up wearing the exact same shirt. Sam did an incredible job, everyone say thank you Sam. He strip dances, he referees, what can’t this guy do?

In our accidentally matching shirts. I bought it thinking, “hell yeah I want the one with the slutty little zipper” and I’m glad to see we were aligned in that.

Our fighters’ names included:

• Daddy Bone

• The Accountant

• The Daltic Beast

• Shareholder Value

• Nico

• B2B Ass

• Nate

• Michael

• Tisslord

• Number 1

• Big Friendly

• Slamuel L. Jackson

• Amber Sucks

• Fist of Justin

• A Challenger Approaches

• Plot Twist

To be clear, these were mostly aliases made up for the fight. I do not know what their real names were, and I guess I never will.

The fighters got oiled up, and apparently this was actually useful, as it helped punches skim off the skin. Everything got really oily though, which was not a sensation I enjoyed.

The Ritual Oiling

The first two rounds were with inflatable gloves.

the oiled up men fighting

Then we had a five-way fight with pool noodles to make it to the semi-finals.

The semi-finals were with giant inflatable hammers, which unfortunately could not withstand the sheer power of the revved-up tech bros and ripped.

To give the finalists a breather, there was a “resurrection round” where the audience picked eliminated favorites to duel.

Then the final round brought back the gloves. The winner was awarded a bedazzled belt: “Ratio Champ.”

Sam with the winner’s belt

After the fight, Nick gifted the leftover baby oil to the baby shower happening nearby. It was only right. Then we let the crowd release any frustration (whether Ratio-related or not) in a free-for all. Finally, my friends and I celebrated another successful event by getting boba and burritos.

Upon reflection, I realized moving from a three-bedroom where I’d throw unhinged parties with my roommates, to a one-bedroom where I didn’t have space for parties, and therefore had to host them in public, has truly had cosmic effects on the San Francisco Bay Area.

I’m pretty tired out, so no more parties for a while. And by “a while” I mean until I think of something else that’s kinda funny, which is probably gonna be tomorrow.

da boyz (the winner asked to be anonymous, so Sam edited my face on top lmao)

Acknowledgements:

A huge thank you to all the incredible people who helped with this event. Sam referee. Patrick table-bringer. The two Ryan photographers. Ryan and Angela, the ring boy and girl. (I do not know why we had three Ryans.) Quincy, Mary, Isla, Graydon, Peter for operational support. Kristine and Ashwin the oilers. Mackenzie for moral support. And of course, the stars of the show, all 18 aforementioned men who had the courage to step up and square up. You guys are the best, thank you for your deep commitment to the bit.

Also so grateful for my friends for coming to support my stupid shit all the time, and the hundreds of strangers who took a chance on an event they saw off a flyer. I couldn’t do it without you. Or I could, but it’d just be me alone in a park, which would be way less fun and kinda weird.

1. Greek mythology reference to Helen of Troy, for any uncultured readers who don’t recognize this.