Friday, October 14, 2011

Gentlemen, Goons, & Gals.

I don’t do these things - writing in blogs, or social media, or social anything

Really, it all escapes me. “She” [That being “Her"] supposes I’m doing these things merely to separate myself from the masses, tuning my back, therein making me “Him,” the guy too cool for socializing. ...if “Him” ever writes to the public it’s only logical that it is on “Her” blog.

Her "Truth."

What brings about this auspicious occasion? This compulsion of forthrightness. The “State of Man” – the feature in The Wall Street Journal Magazine’s October issue detailing Playboys, Philanthropists, Surfers, Entrepreneurs, & Dandies, but more importantly the advent of the gentlemen in me. In no way has this realization manifested suddenly. I imagine all boys II Men have come to an impasse where their walkabout has confound their better sensibilities. I imagine women have thought the same. 

Her "well... yah, but only for the untoward of the bunch."

Freshman year a girl teased, “...are you even a man yet, get some hair on your chest...” as she bench pressed more weight than me. And smirked. Sigh

As of late this idea, manhood, has come to occupy my thoughts incessantly and Paris, my present home, has become my Walden.

By no means have I come to an Einstein theory or Ricardian model. I'm a dandy, our epiphanies aren't in maths. I can only ascribe to some of what I have witnessed on this precipice. Man is not static, he fluctuates with time, managing to defy status quo and still fear its demise. Socially conditioned as such, more than any, the male is affected by how he is perceived by society.

Her "I'm saying!"

Swagger,” a mentality of perception. 
We emulate that which we admire, our adulation evolving with maturity, or not. 
"I don’t wear jerseys I’m 30 plus, give me a crisp pair a jeans n---a button-ups.” -Jay Z
At 33 Jay Z metamorphosed his swag in 2003’s Black Album, marking the death of his 
stylistic delinquency. It’s arguable that his sartorial awakening was a welcomed change, but was it a necessity or a societal dictation? Is his swagger his own?

Why do men do anything? For the B****es.

Her would like to editorialize "In addition to the obvious misogynistic profanity, the aforementioned statement propagates the naturalization of cisgendered heteronormativity, de-emphasizing the social construct it surely is. It's also sad. Eartha Kitt thinks so."

But I’m only calling you b****es because I don’t know your names individually.

Her would like to interject “Dis ninja righ herrre!!!!”

Relax! I don't support the term. Rappers do. Rappers and unfortunate Eastern European immigrants who grew up watching MTV Россия and Mystikal videos.

Her says “That’s better if even a bit insensitive to the Soviet people.”

Kunis aside, an epidemic is writhing, the lesser man is winning. Succeeding in life in a dispassionate manner; his swag upsetting the natural order of things. Lasciviously minded, not vying for love, but lust, this is the man whose God is IDGAF. A goon.

The problem: If a man is to get the woman he must have the swag, if he is to get the best woman he must have the utmost swag, so then the man has to get the power, the money and respect that add up to the ultimate swag. Pretty much what Al Pacino was getting at in Scarface. Freebase.

We’re entering a new age, an anti-Tony Montana. The formula is changing and honestly I’m still trimming the fat, but what I have concluded is this: ceteris paribus, the state of man depends on the object of his affection, or in my case, the woman.

This is not to say that men are incapable of accountability and decorum sans female influence, but men are impervious to the allure of such without motivation. The world would crumble. 

Women want style, emotional connectivity, integrity, intelligence, confidence, humor, modesty. This sissification as yesteryear’s thug intellectual may deem it is in fact the evolution of compatibility. Women want to fall in love with their best friend. Their best friend who can kiss their forehead when they're upset, carry them to solace when they're unwell, defend them when they’re not safe, be their rock at they're most vulnerable. Women want that guy. The classic essential. Effing Ryan Gosling. And to that I say finally.

Her “...he fancies he is that guy. Tehe. I'm slightly obsessed with The RGthe anti-Franco.  My kindred. I'm okay with this.”

We’re arriving at what I think the state of man will always find its way to: the gentlemen.
...he who exudes.
...he who knows himself.
...he who appreciates others.
...he who lives.
...he who is.

How we embark on this path is another matter entirely and if ever I'm struck with clarity you will be the first to know.


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