Recently, I had a terrifying thought: I want to be with a man who likes “man things.” No, I don’t care about what sports he plays or his ability to fix anything mechanical. I’m not a traditional girl, I’m just exhausted. Somehow, some way, I have continuously found myself swindled (yes, I’ll admit it!) by potential romantic suitors who woo me under the guise of liking what I like. My style. My favorite artists. My, my, my. I’m sold! Spoiler alert: they never share my reverence for emotional availability or communication skills. I want depth, not some desire-driven cosplay.
One silver lining from these tragic experiences of mine, however, is that I’ve had quite a bit of fun cataloging the performances of the men around me…what femininity they choose to engage with and what they reject. That’s precisely when I noticed the common thread that weaves through them all: astrology! (That’s definitely where you thought this was going, right?). Almost every man I meet has a strong opinion about astrology. Not necessarily the same opinion, but a strong one. Some dismiss it as “girly-swirly BS,” and others seem to really enjoy it (eek). Nevertheless, does either side of the aisle understand that they are astrology?
Let me break it down:
It’s all on the surface. Masculinity, as many people understand it, is reduced to a series of rigid “performances”: predefined styles, behaviors, and even virtues. This is precisely the problem; masculinity is narrowly defined with no room for deviation. Pair this with a shift in what most women want in male partners in the modern era (me included): someone who is able to be more emotional, more empathetic, more “feminine”…and you get pure panic on the straight male front! As seen in the rise of “The Performative Male,” men are suddenly clinging to what they know best in order to compensate: superficiality. Suddenly they love the trivial things associated with femininity but just enough to still leave them definitively “masculine” instead of truly exploring a space outside of this narrow and constricting binary of what is decisively “masculine.”
This phenomenon is only strengthened by another overarching fact: we as a society have a fetish for aesthetics. We’re obsessed with categorizing ourselves, thus reinforcing these binaries. All of our styles, habits, and beliefs are shoved into distinct and unmoving categories. Clean girl. Soft boy. Old money. Cottagecore. Gorpcore. Core core core. I implore: Why can’t we just be everything-core? Why can’t masculinity be a broadened umbrella? Let us be the multi-faceted humans we are, people!
But as I see it, we aren’t…and it isn’t. The result: the cis-het male’s attempt at performing feminine is futile…a caricature more reminiscent of cheap, gimmicky astrological boxes than an attempt at exploring deeper interests outside of the male binary.
Let me show you what I mean:
The Cinemaniac: Loves to play the part, but a real-life Bechdel test failure is about to play out between you and another girl he’s claiming is “just a friend.”
The Autobiographer: Will asks you to tell him your deepest fears in detail so he feels better about his own. He won’t. This will not stop him from prying more.
The Poet: Ever heard the saying, “If he writes her a sonnet, he loves her. If he writes her a few hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets”? He loves sonnets almost as much as he loves himself.
The Musician: Either the guy that plays an instrument at you or a man with absolutely no musical talent but is obsessed with your favorite female artists, especially the one who sings exclusively about the female experience. He just wants to relate to you…you didn’t know he was an empath? (he thinks she’s attractive).
The Doppelgänger: He likes all the things you like, interestingly immediately after you bring them up first!
The Style-Baiter: The archetype of all archetypes. The most superficial by classification and by his own nature. Yes, he does wear beaded necklaces (they still do that, by the way).
The Walking Tattoo Sleeve: A brother sign, if you will, to the Style-Baiter. Has a sleeve of disjointed tattoos: all small, some fine-line, none done by a professional artist. His ex-situationship needle-poked a word in a language he does not speak. It meant “love” for a time, but now the first letter has faded into oblivion and it means absolutely nothing. Ironic.
The Fisherman: Can’t go a full conversation without explaining an elementary concept to you, but will also sprinkle in extremely subject-specific, niche references without elaborating on them (he’s hoping you’ll ask him to explain those too).
Let’s be human first, why don’t we? Let’s get to the depths of ourselves. None of us, of any identity, should live our lives identifying in a way that only persists for other’s approval. Do what feels true. Do what feels real. Ditch this binarial, caricature-defined, core-based system of thought and love the things you love because YOU love them.
But if you find yourself writing a hundred sonnets about them, good luck.