What is it with so-called ‘metrosexuals’? For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term it is not, as you may think, people who are sexually aroused whilst travelling on the paris subway network. It does in fact refer to men whose displays are stereotypicallyassociated with homosexual men (such as a strong concern for appearance), although they are not homosexual, according to the font of all knowledge, Wikipedia. Apparently a metrosexual’s sexual orientation is utterly immaterial because he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference. So there you have it. Call me old-fashioned but what use is a person who exudes such vanity?
In heterosexual culture, what is wrong with a man being a man and a woman being a woman, in the more traditional sense? I’m not suggesting a throwback to the roles and values of the 1950s, when ladies were expected to ride horses side-saddle and men were so masculine that they had to shave twice a day. I just think that metrosexuals have got it all wrong.
The gym that I attend has a higher than average number of metrosexuals. There have been times when I have entered the changing room only to be confronted by the site of a naked man admiring his physique in the mirror. I honestly wished that I could switch off my peripheral vision at that point. There’s far too much ‘cockage’ in that changing room for my liking. No-one needs to see that. Did I buy a ticket to see the naked ‘gun’ show? No. So kindly put your ‘brain’ back in your pants where it should be, metrosexuals of Vauxhall gym. Why can’t they change quickly like the rest of us? I limit the exposure of my butt to mere milliseconds. Superman changes slower than me.
Girls do you really want a man who spends more time in front of the mirror than you do? Or one who comandeers the use of your eyeliner, thus ‘rebranding’ it guyliner? Or even worse, a guy who, upon hearing of your impending visit to the nail salon, asks you to book a +1 for that time slot. Well, his nails won’t trim themselves, will they? And what is it with those ridiculous low ‘V’ necked T-shirts that metrosexuals wear? I guess they think that the world has to see their freshly plucked moobs. But of course they don’t really have moobs! They are either pumped up like the Michelin man or soft and willowy like Leonardo DeCappuccino.
I like to think that I’m a modern man. I try to make the best of what nature gave me but without resorting to metrosexual tactics. Of course I sometimes need a bag to carry things, but I draw the line at a designer label man bag. Hell, most girls I’ve been out with usually have many handbags, each with enough storage capacity to carry around a baby kangaroo, so I’ll leave the bag obsession to them.
Metrosexuals, have a word with yourself and ask if you really need to be so vain. Your eyebrows don’t really look good when they are plucked into the shape of the McDonalds arches, you just look permanently surprised. Stay clear of female territory, you know it makes sense. Now look at yourselves in the mirror, long and hard and shout out: “GRR, I’M A TIGER!” Again! Louder! Good, now go out and chop some wood or build an outhouse. My work here is done.