I just got finished reading this article in Playboy (Yes, I read Playboy, but just for the articles.), How Forty Became the New Twenty by Joel Stein. Basically, the article talks about the American male’s cratering maturity level. Mr. Stein, who is 40, points out his friends’ interest in comic books, Angry Birds, and The Hunger Games. He talks about men being okay with getting married in Cinderella Castle, going to dinners where cupcakes are served, and still being on their parent’s cellphone plan.
The article got me to thinking (exactly as a well-written article should), not about how immature men have become, but how this is going to play out with women. Because as much as our motherly instincts have us saying “Aww, isn’t he cute?” when we see a man decorating cupcakes at a party, getting all excited over a new phone ap, or wanting to dress up in Batman tights on Halloween, there’s a part of us that doesn’t much care for it. The same part that placed the Fifty Shades series on the top of the NYT’s bestseller list. The part that wants our guys to be masculine, arrogant, and controlling. A part that longs to see a man come in all tattered and sweaty from a touch-football game, instead of perfectly sweet-smelling after spending three hours tossing cartoon birds at little pigs.
This is not to say that I think men shouldn’t show a little boyish charm and sensitivity. I love it when Hubba squeezes into our granddaughter’s playhouse and lets them put a “pwincess” crown on his head. I’m just saying that no matter how cute we think you are in your new pink polo, occasionally, we want our men to become Alpha Men. To take the bull by the horns. Show us a little arrogant male. “No, we’re not going to some damned cupcake party. We’re staying right here and I’m going to strip you naked and make love to you. And after that, Miss Steele, I’m going to kick your butt at Angry Birds.”
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