The ones that are actually males are total bros. No only will they not sting you; they, in fact, are incapable of stinging.
Female wasps, on the other hand, will sting the shit out of you. And now, since it’s semi-relevant, I want to share my experiences with wasps over autumn.
I learned quite a bit about wasps in autumn. They invaded my home, and I could not find their nest. Over the course of a couple months I must have killed at least 70 of them. I was not stung once, and I became an adept wasp killer. I no longer feared them. Sometimes I didn’t kill; I observed.
I experimented as well. I killed a wasp and left it on the windowsill, keenly anticipating how the other wasps would react. One hovered over top its fallen comrade for some time, and then landed on top it. It used its mandibles to prod the body, and then crawled around the dead wasp. Then, it flew up, and off it went. Almost aimlessly. The next time I encountered a number of wasps, I decided to kill another, only this time I left my weapon choice near the scene. I crushed the wasp slightly, so that it would not die immediately, and then placed the cigarette box near the body on the sill. When a second wasp came to inspect, it performed a routine similar that of the first wasp’s. When it took off, it zeroed in on the cigarette pack almost immediately. It buzzed around the box for sometime, and then flew away. It was fascinating.
I also once found as spider. Knowing that most wasps are predatory, I killed the spider and left it on the sill. I waited patiently, until a wasp appeared and inspected the spider. It then used its mandibles to pick the spider up, and flew off with it. This also fascinated me. As much as I hated these wasps, observing there behaviours in different scenarios was quite interesting.
I watched wasp was on the large window looking out onto the street. In the top corner. I observed it gently stroke its antennae with methodical precision, over and over with its forelegs. It was actually kind of beautiful, the way the light reflected off its eyes. A prism of light. Dark as the ocean blue, bright as the white hot sun, and as lively as ochre foliage dancing in the wind. I decided not to kill that wasp, I captured it instead. I placed it in the freezer, and dubbed it Lazarus when released from its cryogenic prison. But Lazarus did not awaken. Lazarus still sleeps within a glass house lying on my sill.