Death Throes Of The Real Man

This isn't a new subject. I've mentioned it before. A few years ago I mentioned the resurgence of what the girls at the pub called the retrosexual, the comeback of the real man. Well, I misjudged. It's not going to happen. I don't think it can happen.

There are a few of us left. Real men. There aren't very many, and our numbers will shrink until the last real man will be on display in the Smithsonian... A stark reminder of when we thought for ourselves, and did what was right, not because it was expected, but because it was right.

The resurgence I mentioned failed. Why? It failed for lack of role models. It failed because women these days don't understand us enough to appreciate us and boys don't know how to become us.

Real men have been replaced by the male sheeple... It's all postureing and posing, or they have been replaced by the thug... Trying too hard to be tough to think about anyone but themselves.
Who am I to judge, you may well ask. Well I'll tell you.

Am I a real man because I have steel toed boots and a leather Jacket? Because I ride around in a Jeep with the top off and rode motorcycles for years? Because I can handle myself in any fight? Because I know guns and can shoot? Because I think a glass of good bourbon and a great cigar are proof that there's a God?

No.

Nor do I believe I am a real man because I like good wine, own a tuxedo, like theater and the ballet, can cook and sew, shine my shoes and like fine art.

I am a real man because of how I think, and how it translates into how I act.

Am I a caveman on occasion? Yes. Brutally honest and loud about it.

Am I too shy sometimes? Sure. I've missed more than a few opportunities because I didn't speak up in time.

I am a real man because of the middle ground. I am a real man because I will fight when I have to... and walk away when I need to. Because when I do something right I expect no praise, and when I do something wrong I accept the consequences.

Men today have been treated to do-overs and taught the blame game so much they don't understand personal responsibility anymore, and women are drawn either to these shiny, shallow empty husks with egos, or to the brutal neanderthal with no thought but sex and food.

The real man has no place in the modern world anymore. We are a dying breed, and we will be reformed and reeducated and replaced.

We already have been.