_ (08/10/2009) Let us take a minute to mourn for the metrosexual. For if I am reading the signs correctly, we are indeed witnessing the last days of this breed of man who, despite being hetero, is highly-concerned with personal appearance and hygiene, drinks his imported honey ale from a pilsner--never a bottle, subscribes to GQ, and knows how to pick out a proper hostess gift. I predict that they will be completely extinct within the next ten years. It is an inevitable result of survival of the fittest--it's hard to scratch your way up the food chain without ruining your MAN-icure or scuffing your Gucci horse bit moccasins.
Macho is making a comeback. And you need only to look at Reality TV to see it. A slew of shows like Deadliest Catch, Ice Road Truckers, Axe Men, feature dirty, sinewy-muscled, mean-mouthed men doing manual labor and spitting and sweating...and people are watching it.
And, there is a third example of testosterone in action that is emerging--and is personally my favorite. Him, I would call the Butch Boulevardier (think Anthony Bourdain). This guy has read books, he can talk politics, he knows good scotch, he can find the g-spot, he plays an instrument, he travels--but never to all-inclusive resorts and never with more than a carry-on duffle bag. He can grow things and then cook them. He would not be caught dead getting a pedicure, but might try acupuncture. He has both gay and lesbian friends. Sometimes he smokes and calls women "baby," even though both are now politically incorrect. He smells like life, not some sandalwood-laced fragrance by Calvin Klein. Everything about him says, "I can take of myself and you too." I love this guy!
In some ways, I will miss the boys who didn't mind shopping all day at H&M and then going for Sushi and Appletinis. But, I was getting really tired of my men being prettier than me and constantly borrowing my Aveda sculpting wax. So, all in all, I'm thrilled with this latest Darwinian advancement.
Hoorah, for the return of real men!
(08/10/2012) Since this post was written, exactly three years ago to the day, the metrosexual has indeed gone the way of the DoDo Bird and Wooly Mammoth. However, it has been replaced by another breed that threatens the holiness of all that is virile…the Hipster. You can recognize them by their skinny jeans, skate shoes, plaid shirts, and bow ties. In one hand they carry a bike polo mallet and in the other an IPA beer. When not stroking their barely-there beards and brooding over global warming or the untimely death of Jeff Buckley, they are lauding the attributes of composting bins, pointing out the cons of downtown gentrification, and lamenting that the character of Juno is not real.
But, there are still men out there, for better or worse, who have more testosterone than a non-organic T-Bone steak. I married one. Example A: He firmly believes that the male areola is in no way an erogenous zone and should not be touched. At any attempt, he will bellow, “Get off! You don't touch boy nipples.” Unfortunately, the big Bluegill that clamped down on his right nip two weeks ago does not understand English or sexual double standards, and continued to bite it until it bled.
Sharing All I KNOW about the fine art of voluptuating. here's to living the lush life.