Death To The Metrosexual!

Take a dip into the popular culture pool and you’ll soon be convinced that metrosexuals are the saviours of life as we know it. Thanks to straight men discovering the benefits of a good haircut, designer underwear and expensive eau de toilette, the economies of the world have found an eager new consumer market.

The greater benefits of the metrosexual ‘movement’ relate to more than just the economic realm, but also the social arena. Men now openly delve into their sensitive side at the drop of hat, and there’s little requirement for chest-pounding and club brawling in this enlightened age. The ladies also profit from no longer needing to spray room deodorizer under the sheets, or grabbing for toe-nail clippers before first bedding a man.

But has anyone thought about how the average homosexual (not that there’s anything ‘average’ about being gay) feels about the trendy coifed metrosexual? Nope. No one’s bothered to ask us. Well, as a card carrying gay man, I’d like to make a few things clear. In fact I’d like to lodge a complaint or two.

Firstly, these new guys on the block are unashamedly stealing our thunder. We were the original well-groomed males of the species. Now we find ourselves pitifully blending into the masses. What’s the value of belonging to a minority group if you can’t be different or at least cause a little stir when you walk into a room?

Then there’s the annoying “is he or isn’t he” factor. I’m all for celebrating diversity and reaching out to others that are ‘different’, but things are simply getting out of hand. There was a time when one could go to a gay club and know, with some confidence, that all the men in the club were actually, well… gay. These days however, metrosexuals have no compunction about hanging out at a gay bar with their gay friends and being all flirty. But will they actually put out? No way.

And how exactly, in daily life, are we supposed to tell gay men from the breeding variety when straight men are bigger nellies than we are? Going to a wedding, for example, is no fun at all unless we’re able to flirt with the bride’s cute gay cousin. But who can tell if he’s really up for it or if he’s just another primping sensitive skirt chaser in disguise. It’s enough to bring on a full blown identity crisis. Thanks to the metrosexual, our collective “gaydar” is in the shop for serious retuning.

If gay men were a species able to procreate (with one another that is) we’d be in serious trouble; unable to distinguish our potential mates from other animals, we’d quickly and very tragically die out. (Trust me, we’d be missed.)

There’s also the sensitive matter of our conflicted relationship with heterosexual guys. Let’s be honest, there’s no gay man that won’t admit to having a ‘thing’ for the typical straight jock. It’s all about wanting that which we cannot have. And while, in my experience, a man is only as straight as the amount of beer he’s guzzled, I’d really prefer to maintain my fantasy intact, thank you very much. With straight men rapidly morphing into metrosexual Stepford-Wives-like clones, where’s the fun in having a crush on the guy next door? Down the crapper is where it is.

It’s time to stop the madness; time for the gay male to turn the tables and connect with his more primal masculine roots (deep down inside we’re all lumbering horny brutes).

Enough with being so fucking prim and proper; stop shaving your back, melt down your tweezers, pour your Gucci down the drain and proudly let out the occasional fart in public.

And, most importantly, let’s show those straight sissy metrosexuals that when push comes to shove, we gay guys know what male bonding is really all about.

By Luiz DeBarros © 2005