Do not be alarmed! Tonight, on the bus (where else), I saw a man getting into a car at a gas station as it flew by. The dude was very good-looking and super masculine. Uber masculine! Do you ever see those guys? They are genetically blessed in extreme measures of testosteronization. They are Man beyond anything you can envision in your own or your girlfriend’s wildest dreams. These guys are born men. Fate smiled upon their star. They are usually the maximal height, like 6’1″ or some crap like that. But beyond simple height, they have broad square shoulders without ever lifting an iron plate in their life. Their skeletal structure rises upwards in a masculine and formidable ascension, and regardless of what they are doing, there is so slouch or resignation etched anywhere in their frame. Nowhere in their posture is there a trace to be seen of submission or bewilderment. Even on a bad day these types of guys stand arrow straight. And that face. Such a masculine, powerful face. A chiseled jawline, sturdy, serious square forehead and large unwavering eyes sheltered by a pair of clear, brisk eyebrows. There is a “no-nonsense” aura which a handsome man’s face exudes. I’m not talking about this boyish, cutesy good-looking garbage. Those are not men — they are girls in boy’s bodies. I’m talking Tom Selleck. You know, strong, manly men of hardy and unyielding constitution, beastly shoulders and jawlines molded from stone. These are the guys I was reminded of when I saw the man getting in his car tonight. It was a plain old Honda Accord but he had that Man aura. He didn’t have to talk or leap buildings. He just had to be. He could easily get most chicks if he wanted. He had that masculine thing I’ve never known.
It’s a grueling lesson we must confront.
A shattering of externally imposed dreams and fantasies.
We do not possess that ideal physical archetype we adulate.
I am short, my shoulders suck, the only thing chiseled on my face are my acne scars. I am proud of my arms. They are the one aspect of my physique that responds well to weights. About the only part. My face, unsquare, lacks handsome right angles, but instead coalesces into meek curves of a Beta waterboy.
I’ve always wanted to be imposing and striking, but it can’t be. I’m diminutive and oval. I find that I idealize certain male body types which borders on the disconcerting. Male ideal in an aesthetic manner only. Still, the unflattering taste of homo remains when I confront such male adulation. I think this is what they mean by bro crush.
It’s slightly unfair, but dramatically unimportant, that men cannot call their buddies “boyfriends” or wear skirts, the same kind of cross-gender stuff women are permitted to do all the time. Not that I want to refer to my wingmen as “boyfriends” or wear a smart skirt to the movies, but the point rests. Men are expected to rigidly confine to an equally rigid sexually constructed sphere. There is no gender flexibility for men. Women, on the other hand, can wear pants and boots and not draw a raised eyebrow. Women can kiss women on stage and be obliquely admired or praised for it.
See, my earlier self-directed laments concerning my physical shortcomings are in fact very feminine in nature. Men don’t belabor this shit. Men are expected to be either, 1) oblivious, or, 2) gay.
Why can I not reasonably express my physical insecurities or unmanly hesitations without being simultaneously perceived as a homo? There are plenty of men who are resolutely confident in their masculinity who don’t mind expressing such idle thoughts, but the predominant perception is that men who indulge in such vulnerable associations are less than men, at least speaking for this section of the blogosphere. Conversely, the men who publicly humor such expressions of bitch-influenced thought are abhorrent herbs who argue that gender is a social construct. You know, the skinny hipster type with skinny jeans and flip flops. These guys need to get their asses kicked because they spoil it for the men who venture out on the limb of their feminine side. Those herbs have crafted a whole subculture of anti-man; any man who attempts to question his own manly motivations is immediately cast into the herbal pool of doubt.
I insist…a man can be strong but still unsure. In fact, I would argue the candidly unsure man is probably the strongest man for he has the power to express what he knows can easily be construed as weakness but he does not care because he knows there is a strength lurking in his bones that will not be quelled.