It's anthropological; it's part of ingrained male psyche to always be "better" than everyone else, that's how you secure a mate, good hunting lands, leadership of the tribe, etc. and so on. Thing is, we don't have to show our teeth and meet in mortal combat anymore, we just grab the peanut and bust off 15 move combos. Same basic idea, but in today's homogenized society, it's a vestigial organ of sorts, the appendix of male behavior, no longer necessary, but still there. The best thing you can do is learn to find the balance between a healthy amount of shit talking without tipping towards being an arrogant asshole.
One of my favorite things to do after a healthy ass-whupin' (no matter how much I try, my fingers just seem to be, well, stupid) is to challenge the biggest loud mouth to a game of chess, and then proceed to brow beat them into accepting when they toss up the usual excuses of "that shit is ghey" (this being the boiled down, condensed version of the myriad responses I tend to get) with responses in the vein of "any idiot can mash buttons, come and use your brain for a minute and really impress me." Soon enough, their egos and pride lead them to accept; and I four-move them in the first game, and lord knows their man-pride can't take that. Next thing you know, we're six or seven games deep, I feel better about myself (that is the point, after all, isn't it?) and the guy who just spent an hour or better hadouken-ing *grimace* my ass all over the big screen is tearing his hair out and cursing me for a jackal-whelped hellspawn (that actually happened once.) as I smile, chuckle low in my throat, say "Well, that was stupid..." and go for another checkmate.
Then we drink Jameson and have Kendo battles in the back yard, but that's another story for another time.
One of my favorite things to do after a healthy ass-whupin' (no matter how much I try, my fingers just seem to be, well, stupid) is to challenge the biggest loud mouth to a game of chess, and then proceed to brow beat them into accepting when they toss up the usual excuses of "that shit is ghey" (this being the boiled down, condensed version of the myriad responses I tend to get) with responses in the vein of "any idiot can mash buttons, come and use your brain for a minute and really impress me." Soon enough, their egos and pride lead them to accept; and I four-move them in the first game, and lord knows their man-pride can't take that. Next thing you know, we're six or seven games deep, I feel better about myself (that is the point, after all, isn't it?) and the guy who just spent an hour or better hadouken-ing *grimace* my ass all over the big screen is tearing his hair out and cursing me for a jackal-whelped hellspawn (that actually happened once.) as I smile, chuckle low in my throat, say "Well, that was stupid..." and go for another checkmate.
Then we drink Jameson and have Kendo battles in the back yard, but that's another story for another time.