Ms. Man

The disintegration of 'man'kind

I never imagined a time when men would take longer than me to get ready and also have a better arch in their eyebrows. I wonder what happened to the men who were too lazy to run a comb through their hair, pick out an outfit that matched or wear shoes that were less than 10 years old. Lethargy, in part, equaled manhood. Today, they can't even go to the gym without their cubic zirconia earrings and orange skin fresh from the bottle.

No caption I add could improve upon the stupefied look on your face as you view this.

There is a made-up word for the made-up people who subscribe to this narcissistic phenomenon: "metrosexual." By definition, this is an urban male with a strong aesthetic sense who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle. Sounds gay to me (maybe not a real gay, but a gay that primetime sitcoms are comfortable showing). "Like male vanity products and herpes," wrote Mark Simpson the man who coined the phrase, "they're pretty much everywhere."

It is a bad time to be a woman. I don't want to be hit on by a guy who spends more time on his eyebrows than I do. New York is besieged by these fake-men, especially the frightening subgenre of metrosexuals: the guido. The guido is an overly dramatic Italian with a fake Brooklyn accent (Some of them even fake the Italian heritage, like Moishe Greenberg from Flushing, Queens. Shout out, kid.). They drive around in BMWs that their parents bought for them and spend more time grooming themselves than a shedding cat. There is nothing that drives me more mad than a meathead in a wife beater and a sweatband. P.S., they were only marginally cool in 1983's Flashdance and that was only acceptable because she was a girl.

Front row, left: Here's the thing about bottled tans: Ya gotta be careful around the hair line.

Every week I go to the gym and see them and all their ridiculous glory. Huddled around the weights talking about last weekend's activities at the Long Island clubs and discussing their favorite techno DJs and hair products. They still haven't lifted a pound, but what is cooler than pretending to be working out at the gym? Maybe trying to see your reflection in a dumbbell.

Idiot at left: "Does this t-shirt make me look fat?" Idiot at right: "Shut up and look cool for the camera."
Off topic: I like the sailboat in back. Nice touch.

I don't want to date a man who bathes in liqui-tan. I don't want to date a man who spends more on hair products than I do. Most of all, I don't want to date a man who's prettier than me.