Published in the Business Insider yesterday was an
article called “The Unofficial Goldman Sachs Guide to Being a Man.” You can find it here. This
article has singlehandedly managed to raise my resting heart rate into
unhealthy levels, even measured by the standards of the average GS
employee—someone whose primary mode of exercise comes from screwing. People
over.
Of course, the
list runs the gamut of subjects from tipping, to men’s fashion, to exercise,
and naturally, to women. And when it comes to this very important subject,
these “rules” are not only completely wrong, but also entirely misogynistic.
Apparently the authors of this article have not joined us in the year 2013 and
have no reservations about letting us all know that they’re still getting their
“man tips” from Mad Men.
This is the image you should be conjuring up.
Case in point: “Pretty women who are unaccompanied want you to talk to them.”
Really? Tell me more, kind sir, about how the coinciding states of prettiness
and sitting unaccompanied happily conjure up an invitation to a conversation.
Please. I’d like to know the train of thought there—the logic behind your analysis—the
work that you did—that lead you to this brilliantly misguided conclusion. Did you use deductive or inductive reasoning?
Furthermore, your qualifier of women prompts an even more interesting question:
What about ugly women? When they sit alone, what do they tell you, o mighty
woman whisperer?
I’ve got another one: “Find a Times New Roman in the streets and
a Wingdings in the sheets. She exists.” Sheer genius. How these men have
not managed to snag Giselle Bündchen
and Adriana Lima is a complete mystery to me.
What they have managed to do, however, is replace “a lady in the streets
and a freak in the bed” with font names. Clever boy. I don’t know about all you
other ladies out there, but I’ve always wanted my sexual prowess to be
described by some sort of crazy font. Duh. Most importantly, I’ve always valued
the duplicitous reality of existing as a woman that the authors of this article
espouse—that is, prim and proper as a rose in public, preferably with a degree
from an Ivy, a sharp wit, an independent mind, a free flowing spirit (but not
TOO free-flowing now, let’s not get too CRAZY lest Charles William Richardson
the FIFTH come over here and puts me in my place), and then an insatiable and
creative pornstaresque appetite for sex when we’re alone.
Oh, you want dessert? No, no, no!
Let’s try this one on for size: “Desserts are for women. Order one and
pretend you don’t mind that she’s eating yours.” Do you hear that,
gentlemen? Don’t let anyone catch you with dessert. From now on, only eat your
AmeriCone Dream clandestinely, lest your bros catch you with it and you feel
emasculated. You pussy. Men don’t eat ice cream. Because it’s only for women.
And when she inevitably goes to take a bite of your crčme brulč during dinner,
just pleasantly smile and with this knowing and vibrant intelligence behind
your effervescent eyes.
What about this: “One girlfriend at a time is probably
enough.” Probably. “Probably”
inevitably invites the possibility of “probably not.” So, when is one
girlfriend not enough? There’s a difference between seeing several people when
you have a no strings attached relationship, and having several girlfriends.
Since the “girlfriend” terminology was used, specifically, I have to assume
that he’s already had the “where is this going” conversation. So what are the
acceptable exceptions that spur “probably”…? “My girlfriend has cancer. She’s
going to die soon. I better get another one ready on the assembly line and get
things started there, so that there’s no girlfriend-less period in the
interim.” No? What about this: “My girlfriend is getting uglier by the day. She
is aging at exponential speeds. But I’ve developed this unhealthy attachment to
her. I think the medical term is ‘feelings.’ I guess I’ll just keep her around
and find another, better looking girlfriend, on the side.” Have I got it now?
And this is the coup de grâce: “Hookers aren’t cool, but
remember, the free ones are a lot more expensive.” Spoken like a true
Spitzerite. I’m sure Eliot had a nice tęte-ŕ-tęte with these gentlemen. “Take
it from me man, I learned from my mistakes. Hookers aren’t cool. But in spite
of it all, it’s better to pay for sex up front than be with a non-professional
who’ll just expect Harry Winston later. Amirite? LOLZ.”
Whoops.
Seriously, gentlemen. Let’s move beyond this inadequate and disrespectful
understanding of the opposite sex, and to a more nuanced and balanced portrayal of
romantic relationships. Here. Let me put it in a language you can understand: “Grow
up, bro.”
– Helena B.
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