Me and the Metro: A Dilemma

For years, women have prayed for a man that is smart, well-dressed,
well-groomed, and is not afraid to show that he can be a sensitive,
compassionate soul. Maybe we’re lucky, because our generation has seen
the emergence of the metrosexual,
where those men have proven that yes, you can be just gay enough and
still love women. But when I see you in my makeup aisle….it’s getting
to the point where I have to stop and ask: When is enough, enough?!

Before I rant, I will admit it. Yes, I, too, want a man like this. I
want him to wear scarves, and wear pants at his waist and not halfway
down his butt. I want him to know not to mix prints, and that paisley
never looks good on anyone. I want him to have proper manners, grammar,
and chivalry. I want him to know which wines to order when we go out to
dinner…or when he cooks for me. I want him to use conditioner and
take care of his lips and skin. I want him to maintain his hair…in
all places. I want him to understand how to arrange a room, and how to
buy, wrap, and give gifts. I want him to buy me tickets to a Broadway
show, and actually go with me and enjoy it. I want us to be a hot power
couple when we go out.

I’m not saying that all men are slobs with no culture or appreciation
for the fine arts, or that they can’t take care of themselves. I’m just
saying most of them are…No, wait. That came out wrong…But I will now quote Cher Horowitz and say:

“So okay, I don’t want to be a traitor to my generation and all but I
don’t get how guys dress today. I mean, come on, it looks like they
just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy
hair – ew – and cover it up with a backwards cap and like, we’re
expected to swoon? I don’t think so.
“

It’s not that I don’t appreciate the MetroMovement, but honestly. There are some gripes I have with it:

Gentlemen, pink is just not your color. Yes, some men can pull it off
quite nicely, but really. Pink just isn’t for you. Do you really want
to be associated with this guy?

And no, you don’t always have to be perfectly put together…you take
longer in the bathroom than I do….I don’t know what you’re doing in
there (stop using all my ClearPore strips!)
and maybe I don’t want to know, but for the LOVE. I appreciate that you
like to maintain yourself, with razors, moisturizer, shave gels, lip
cream, and the like, but really. When your products start to outnumber
mine…Whatever happened to the Barbasol shave cream and Old Spice
aftershave? Just add some Burt’s Bees for the lips, and you’re good to
go. That’s all you really need.

And another thing. Why should I have to share my closet with you?! I
have a lovely walk in closet, and I was forced to give up half of it.
You have just as many clothes and more shoes than I do. How is that
right? And it takes you longer to find the perfect accessory? WTF? I
should not be sitting on the couch, ready to go, waiting for you. You
don’t need a cornflower blue shirt to match your cobalt tie that goes
with your sapphire blazer. Just pick out a damn blue shirt already!

To this point, I would like to say that I find something inherently
sexy about a guy in a hoodie, decently-fitting jeans, and sneakers.

I am a fan of a man that appreciates the arts. Music, art,
fashion…sure. Great stuff. I’d love to visit the museums and
historical sites, and be able to take him shopping (and get honest and
interested feedback). But when part of your week includes a manicure,
cruising sample sales on 5th Avenue, and highlight appointments, we
have a problem.

There is also something sexy about a guy that will work on a car, play sports, fix things, and grill things outdoors.

   

In short, gentlemen, I like you the way you are. The things that are
stereotypically man, that’s why we love you. Because you’re big and
strong, and can do things we can’t, like open jars and fix the leaky
sink. You’re there to protect us, not be our salon buddy. Sure, you
might need some improvements (no, plaid and stripes don’t go together,
and yes, it’s ok to enjoy and sing along to RENT),
but really, that’s what we’re here for. I’d rather have you greasy from
changing my oil than spotless and laughing next to me while we’re
getting our toes done.

But don’t worry…if we do get the occasional pedicure together, I won’t tell. As long as you do something manly afterwards, like watch porn and drink beer.