One of the chapters is called "Men and boys" and articulates brilliantly everything I feel about this harrowing distinction between males. That being said, below is my own essay on the topic:
I remember two vivid instances when my blossoming adulthood self had epiphanies about my own maturing tastes in men. It sounds gross, I know, but let me explain.
For me, as a teenager, I was into boys with skinny legs, flippy hair, and feminine faces. The ones who were late bloomers and as such were quiet and mysterious and social observers. Think Aaron Johnson in Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging and Logan Lerman circa 2007. They were so cute with their boyish skin, flat bums, and skater clothes.
 |
| Oh Aaron Johnson, you still make my teen heart swoon. |
At 18, I remember the moment when I was eating french fries with my brother in Five Guys and this gorgeous 45-or-so year old man walked in. The fry midway to my mouth dropped. He was beautiful and tall and wore nice clothes and, most notably, he had this wonderful mixed dark brown and silver hair. A demigod in a fast food chain. Also, a demigod who could easily be my dad. The latter freaked me out. Ew, who am I? I was repulsed, but also intrigued by what I felt.
When I was a kid, we didn't have cable or satellite, only bunny ears sitting on top of a 1980s turn-dial television. It was color, thank goodness, but if you wanted to change between one of our four-and-a-half channels, you had to get up off the couch, turn the dial, and readjust the antenna as necessary. Among those four (and a half if you counted the WB beneath the static) channels, there wasn't much choice in after-school programming. I never watched cartoons, or Nickelodeon, and I didn't know who Lizzie McGuire was until I was 16. I did know every syndicated show on Pax. My afternoons consisted of reruns of Scarecrow and Mrs. King, Remington Steele, and Are you being served? My evenings were all about Touched by an Angel, Diagnosis Murder, and the nightly news. I was a very cultured kid.
Remington Steele was my favorite. Did I understand the complexities of the murders and affairs? No. Did I totally dig the romantic tension between Steele and Holt? Yes. Was Pierce Brosnan the epitome of male beauty when I was 9? No way, he had chest hair and it was gross. Yes, he was superior to even grosser Sean Connery. But at the time I was way more into hairless Mary Kate and Ashley movie love interests, Lance Bass, and sometimes Tom Welling circa 2001, but only because my sister thought he was hot.
At 17, I rewatched every season of Remington Steele on Hulu (back before there were commercials and things). To use Mindy's term, it was a sexual awakening for me. His coiffed hair, English accent, great-fitting suits, and tie bars were one thing, but at the end of nearly every show after Laura Holt and he have solved an impossible mystery, nearly died, and had a moment of almost intimacy, his shirt is always unbuttoned partway exposing that glorious chest hair, his sleeves rolled up exposing his even more glorious arm hair (I know, I'm disgusting), he's drinking a tumbler of scotch, and being incredibly romantic and caring of Laura. It was near impossible to watch, it was so titillating. All I wanted was replica of 1980s Pierce Brosnan to appear and sweep me away forever.
 |
| I would've posted a completely shirtless picture, but I didn't want you to think I was too gross. |
(Yes, for those of you who have read the book, Mindy's anecdote about Pierce Brosnan brought to remembrance my own.)
And after those moments and subsequent moments in my early college dating life, I realized that I'm into men. Not boys, men. Don't get me wrong, I can still be into skinny guys and I still love flippy hair. Being a man isn't all about looks, except for you know facial hair, arm hair, chest hair, wherever else hair, it's a state of being.
I want a man, instead of a boy, because a man has a salary job and a college degree (or two), he knows how to buy jeans that fit, he knows what's the best haircut for his hair type, he knows how to look up good restaurants on Yelp and appreciates the quality of food being served, he makes plans, he's taken time to learn how to cook instead of deciding that it's a skill he doesn't need since he'll eventually get married so whatever, he wear nice shoes and clothes at a least a J. Crew level, he knows what's up in Yemen because he follows commendable news sources, he understands what feminism actually means and doesn't freak out when people mention it because, by definition, he is one, he wears a non-ostentatious watch, he reads books to learn, and, most importantly, he has adult conversations in order to resolve conflict because the I-can't-express-my-feelings-so-I'm-giving-you-the-silent-treatment is for kids, okay. The man also being undeniably handsome is also wonderful, too.
 |
| Yes, this was 1980-something and yes it's still acceptable to wear clothing like this. Especially if you're a hot ass private eye. |
