The Two Types of Men

The subtleties of masculinity & the blurred lines between ignorance and courage

You know this couple. The female partner is stunning, successful and empathetic, while the man she has attached herself to could only be described as “average”. They text each other things like, “just ate today.” And “good job babe.” They are constantly shaping the other person to be more like themselves, with the girlfriend complaining about incessant video game playing, and the male counterpart regurgitating a decade-old joke about women’s sensitivity. We see him gawking at a wine menu while standing with one hand in his khaki shorts, the other hand palming the small of her back. Everyone loves these couples. I probably do too. My social media is full of examples, developing a running joke that these men must have generational wealth, because why else would any woman seek this kind of partner?

At risk of sounding like the INCEL whose existence lies inside a Reddit thread, or the attention-mongering writer who seeks something to be a contrarian about, I have to ask: what gives?

The first type of man gets taken advantage of. In this society, and world, there is no longer a value to the straight man with a mediocre literary knowledge of the female experience. He adopts words in vogue, like “spaces”, “neo-liberal”, or “dead-name”. In relationships, comfort gets construed with boredom. Safety negates any feelings of romantic chemistry, and he is left with a roster of acquaintances akin to a LinkedIn networking party. These relationships fade out, because there is no vulnerability or intimacy, but only a sobering sense of camaraderie.

I see my relationships and prospects continuously thwarted by a second kind of man, and this dichotomy (if not only in my head) only reinforces the already spiraling doubt about my role in this world.

It is a man with a domineering sense of sexual energy. He isn’t afraid to alienate a group of people. He’s strong willed, subtly intolerant, vocational, possessive and jealous. He cannot sympathize with your problems (isn’t sympathy inherently pitiful anyway?) but he redeems himself in being a protector.

So then why does a deep personal self awareness serve as a fault against reciprocated affection? What has self awareness really afforded me, for the years of rewiring and piecing back together the prejudices I had as a child, only to see other people find companions in their prejudices, forming echo-chambers, Robinhood Trading Discord servers, and fraternities under the ruse of philanthropy.

The people in my life with the most deep seated prejudices are the ones that enjoy the most social rewards. My friends whom have done the grueling work required to separate their soul from their circumstances are, by contrast, some of the most self loathing people I’ve ever met.

So while, at my lowest, I’ll admit to buying a Brandy Melville miniature backpack and wearing it in public, or refusing to say the word “neuro-divergent” unironically, I have to ask the rest of earnest and curious folks: what’s going on here?

Which man has more value: the man of Greek letters, or the man of Greek thinkers? A man who describes himself with superlatives, or one who adorns himself with philosophies that end in “ism”?