Men Who Use Pictures of Themselves As Youths In Their Profiles.

So many “men” can’t help but possess a congenital and unshakeable Peter Pan Syndrome–one that they tend only to cling to all the more as they get older. For the further away they get from youth, the further away they get from having a viable excuse to be such a fuck-up. An “average” if you will. In this fashion, anytime the discovery of a “vintage” photo (vintage, meaning, in this case of “male,” 1990s) comes along–usually by the subject’s over fawning mother, largely responsible for this hollow excuse of a being–a “boy” seizes upon it as an opportunity to show his fake friends throughout various channels demanding a profile picture that, yes, he was once a pure spirit. Not the diabolical knave you see before you today–or rather “see before you” on the internet.

In general, the sort of “man” that gives us a childhood profile photo will keep it there for quite some time (unless, of course, a novelty photo materializes from Vegas to up the appearance of his so-called game–for some reason, every “man” seems to actually want to look like a fuck”boy”). So that we may always understand the exact proportions of his dick–for it has never expanded its dimensions beyond preadolescence. But isn’t he just so fucking cute and forgivable in zygote form?


Men Who Are Faux Freaks That Really Just Want a Basique.

There’s a lot of “freaks” out there. It was the basis of an entire Sex and the City episode, for fuck’s sake (season two, episode three–“The Freak Show”–you should watch it, even though it’s really hard to be reminded of New York when it wasn’t so flaccid). But most of them are freaks not because they would have served well as extras in Tod Browning’s film of the same name, but because they actually have the gumption to sell themselves in this manner, parading themselves as “open,” “progressive” and hippy dippy or what have you when, in actuality, at the end of the day all they want is a muhfukkin basique. A non-Katie (a.k.a. complicato), like all the rest.

Yet possibly due to a typically youthful desire to seem rebellious and/or original (unfortunately youth extends interminably in most “men’s” “minds” these days), the faux freak “male” likes to feign that he’s as kooky and creepy as any sideshow attraction. This often translates into making a lot of random sounds, pretending to take an interest in off-brand bedroom behavior (when really, missionary is always his go-to in between the usual lackadaisical request for up the ass) and, for a time, seeking to pair with a girl who is as equitably 1950s queer as he is. However, every faux freak of a “man” grows tired of the charade with the girl who is genuinely a weirdo, ultimately taking his circus tent to a new metaphorical town (read: vagina) to perform another private show (as Britney Spears would call it), one that will enrapture a more basique element in the end, for that is what he truly wants–to be the so-called “special” one of the relationship.

Men With Stereotypical Notions of What A Feminist Should Look Like.

As the “feminist” “movement” increasingly becomes the sort of fad that prompts Urban Outfitters to sell t-shirts with the three syllable word on it, “men’s” commonly held notions about what one should look like (chiefly a short-coiffed, homely, ill-dressed, long armpit-haired being) ought to evolve quickly if they don’t want to further incriminate themselves to the world about just what narrow-minded pieces of shit they are.

This false perception “men” have of only “ugly” women being capable of rage and contempt for the centuries-long acceptance of female oppression probably wasn’t helped by our Lord and Savior, Valerie Solanas. Then again, most “straight” “men” have nary a clue who that is unless they happened to catch a certain episode of American Horror Story: Cult. What’s more, when the type of dickless “men” I’m referring to think “ugly,” it is in the manner that has so often prompted the Hollywood trope of a woman getting a makeover by the simple removal of her glasses and the addition of a form-fitting dress to her wardrobe.

And yet, it’s actually easier for “men” to position a feminist to themselves in this manner–the manner that assumes she wouldn’t be a feminist if she was pretty enough to finagle herself a “man.” Comforts them in the belief that it’s merely a “trend” that will pass more attractive women by after enough time has lapsed and some more liberal celebrity takes the presidential office.

John Michael McDonagh’s 2016 film, War on Everyone, oft memed, rarely watched, paints this issue most succinctly when Alexander Skarsgård in the role of Terry Monroe daftly asks, “Can you be a feminist and still wear hot pants?” The guilelessness of this question gives a genuine insight into how most “men” think, persisting in truly believing that to be hideous is to be a feminist–in their minds, still a synonym for harpy. That is, if such an age-old insult is even in their Newspeak vernacular. So to break down the answer to that query very simply: you can be a feminist and wear whatever the fuck you want. Even the polar opposite wardrobe piece, a burka–which packs even more power because it hides the only thing “men” care about in a woman: her body.