I was walking on one of the faceless streets near a condo building that hasn’t been finished yet, and happened upon a weird store selling weird things with no cohesive theme. Among some hand-woven blankets and handmade jewelry was a bottle of Aesop soap. Generally only sold in Chelsea or the West Village, it seemed not unusual that the specialty (read: effete) soap should make its way to Williamsburg. Who are the male residents of Wburg if not totally absent of a dick? If you could track the evolution of the man living in this particular neighborhood, you would quickly find that he once actually consisted of more than half a Y chromosome. The feminine scent of the soap interrupted my reverie, and I exited the store before I was guilted into buying something, thereby rendering me a female dickless man.