
Seriously, what happened to guys? Can someone please tell me, because I feel like I’m in some sort of alternate-twilight-opposite world. I’m in my mid twenties, which isn’t old, but there is A LOT that has changed since I was a teenager. And since the teenage years are when we learn to deal with men and relationships, I definitely feel like I’m out of the loop. I felt like I was out of the loop already, but now I feel like if I attempted to get into the loop, the loop would strangle me and I would die. So, instead I stand back and observe from a safe distance and hope that I can pick up some tips on how to deal with this new breed of (non)man, but so far have only managed to contemplate a life in the church, because I think it would be easier to just marry Jesus at this point.
I grew up very much a tomboy. All that were around me and close in age were boys. These were the boys who, if they liked you, hit you, made fun of your apple head (thanks Ronnie) and spit on you when you talked too much (Terry, first boyfriend, much love). I was very confused when I was 13, because all the boys who did these things to me started to try to date me when the breasts (finally) decided to make an appearance. They didn’t stop doing all the torturous stuff, mind you. But now they would call me apple head and then try to rub my apple bottom. It was a game, but one whose rules were not hard to figure out. This new breed, this “emo”, is something I do not understand. At first (before the skinny jeans) I felt like guys were finally maturing, becoming more open to their feelings and being more honest. I loved it. I thought after all those years of torture, I could now enjoy mature, normal men. WRONG.
The trademark of an Emo man is the skinny jean. Now, a man can be emo and not a wearer of the skinny jean, but a man cannot wear the skinny jean and not be emo. The two go hand in hand, like the cover of the Jungle Fever box. So wrong its right. When I was growing up, the skinny jean was reserved for white, English rockers, the gay boys (and not even a lot) and girls. Period. You would not catch a normal, straight, non-lead singer of a Rolling Stones cover band man walking around in skinny jeans. It just wasn’t done. But then came Kanye. Kanye didn’t come out wearing the skinny jeans immediately, but what he did was introduce prep to a world where prep had never survived or been able to maintain any sort of credibility. And people started to whisper, could it be? Can we move fashion where fashion never belonged? Rap stars should never have merged with fashion in such an in-your-face we’re here-and-we’re-queer sort of way. My rap stars should have their asses hanging out, boxers showing, and pants they could float off a building with. I want extra jean just flapping around everywhere. And I can even compromise. I wasn’t upset when Jay Z put a suit on. Or a belt. I like a clean-cut guy just as much as the next girl. It was actually a welcome change, because art imitates life, and life DEFINITELY imitates art. I was happy when men started realizing no one at the board meeting is interested in your Fred Flintstone boxers. Pull your damn pants up. But when you walk around and the fabric of the jeans around your ass is loose while the fabric around your legs is so tight it looks like your skin, all I think is you shit on yourself and need to be changed. And, with my very big mouth, if you come around me I am going to tell you. And then you’ll probably cry. [...]
