by John Hawkins | April 25, 2011 1:11 am
Sometimes a video comes along that inspires you, that motivates you, and that helps you appreciate the things you have that other people don’t. Like testicles. That video, for me, was the instant Internet classic Dear Woman.
Unlike the “men” in Dear Woman, I don’t apologize for my gender. Men don’t owe women an apology for our gender any more than women owe men an apology for theirs.
I will say this, however; I do find some men to be particularly embarrassing. You know the type I mean. Men who pride themselves on their sensitivity. Men who think of themselves as feminists. Metrosexuals.
The “men” who are so indecisive that they can’t pick out a restaurant. The “men” who say, “Whatever you want, dear,” to every request their girlfriend makes. A “man” who skips watching a football game because his girlfriend wants him to go to the mall with her to shop for dresses. The hapless dads from the sitcoms who can’t make it through a full day without his wife guiding his every move.
“Men” like this are as nauseating to men as they are to most women.
Men, as opposed to “men,” are supposed to be leaders. They’re supposed to be decisive. They’re supposed to be just a little bit dangerous. When the water is high and the tide is rising, a man, no quotation marks, is the one who’s supposed to step to the forefront and handle it. What a man doesn’t do is make pitiful YouTube videos apologizing because for all the times his gender wasn’t nice enough to women because we were too busy inventing the wheel, hunting bison for food, and trying to come up with new ways to make big piles of money to take care of our families.
For men who’ve voluntarily neutered themselves in a hapless attempt to impress women, that sounds like pure, unadulterated “I shot him because he stepped on my foot, I got 5 kids by 5 different women” machismo. What they don’t realize is that they’re wimpus Amerimancanus, the flip side of that kind of immature masculinity. They’re the mousy little boys who never grew up and who’re still looking to find a mama substitute who can tell them what to do, just like when they were 8 years old.
The only thing left to say at this point is man up, son. You’re not doing anybody any good the way you are now.
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