November 11, 2005

Meet The New Breed of Man


the Mythic Hero archetype
Originally uploaded by BellePhotos.

Apparently, my darling friend Oshun tells me that Metrosexuals are officially passé. Uncool. Untrendy. Un-in. Dare I say it, sissy even. Manicured nails, GQ mags and David Beckham are out. Cigars, The Economist and Sonny Bono are in.

It’s Ubersexual to you, buddy. Think George Clooney, Pierce Brosnan, Bill Clinton and Donald Trump (Donald Trump?? Great. We now have a generation of men aspiring to achieve the world's worst comb-over).

The Metrosexual lasted a grand decade and personally, I'm giving this Ubersexual man five years tops. Today, I'm not here to expound the virtues of the Uberdude. I’m here to predict what's about to crawl out of the woodwork next. That's right ...

... Meet The Confusexual

This new man is totally, absolutely, utterly, hopelessly, shamelessly … confused. He is in a total state of bewilderment. He struggles to grapple with what society (and by society, we mean women and social commentators who spend their time playing Scrabble and dreaming up ridiculous new terms which they then declare are ‘in’) expects the ideal man to be. He winds up with … zilch.

He gets frustrated. He resents being tagged like some cow. He fantasises about retreating to the mountains and spending his days yodeling and pondering the meaning of life.

His hermit-like existence will come to an end the day categories cease to exist. The day we leave men and let them be whatever, whomever the hell they want. The day The Man finally emerges from the ashes, like a long-forgotten phoenix rising from the uh … pond.

Meet The Man

The Man is comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t give a rat’s arse for labels. The Man’s philosophy in life is “Who The Hell Cares?”.

He can be metro one day and uber the next. He can go renaissance this week and turn into a SNAG the week after. He can saunter around town with dirt under his fingernails today and flaunt his murse (which, apparently, is what they call a male purse) to a play tomorrow.

The Man can do and be any goddamned thing he wants to be. Corporate giants peddling their wares might be cheesed off with a new demographic that’s so incredibly undefinable but will The Man care? Not one bit.

And you know what? Neither will The Woman.

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