I don't think I've ever hugged my grandfather, for he has insisted on shaking my hand ever since I was toddler. I use the word "shake" loosely, in the way a Killer Whale might "shake" a seal before swallowing it. Picture an eagle sinking its formidable talons into the soft, furry body of a confused and terrified field mouse. I vividly remember seeing his hand contort into a terrible claw like appendage, my hand feeling like a raw porterhouse steak between the steel-crunching jaws of a massive crocodile. This happened every time I saw him until I was in my late teens.
Grandpa’s handshakes were my first introduction to old world masculinity. My grandpa was the template that every gin and tonic swilling Don Draper wannabe aspires to project to the rest of the world. As a certified arm-chair psychologist, I believe that my grandfather was the way he was because of the time he was born into. Back then, men had to mold themselves into perfect specimens of mid-twentieth century masculinity just to navigate through life, never mind get ahead in it.
I am not like my grandfather. I was born in a different time. I get whipped cream on my triple caramel Frappuccino’s, and I probably care a little too much about how well my tie goes with my dress shirt. Over Spring Break, I voluntarily joined my mom on the couch to watch a musical. I may have dabbled in some blanket and ice cream action too. But you know what? I pee standing up, damn it! I change flat tires faster than you can finish an episode of Hillbilly Handfishin'. I can make a fire without matches. What gives?
I'm no Taoist, but I certainly believe that everyone has at least a little bit of yin and yang in them. Embrace both sides, and do it publicly. Be proud of being well balanced rather than a one-dimensional cartoon. What makes a man is not how he prefers his alcohol, steak or coffee. It is not his handiness or mechanical acumen. It is not his ability to command a room or seduce women. The truth is that the essence of masculinity boils down to just one quality: penis length.
I’m joking, of course. Girth is far more important.
But no, in all seriousness, masculinity really does only boil down to just one quality: authority over one's own life. A real man dedicates his life either to his own preferment, or for a worthy cause of his choosing. He does not involuntarily live his life for anyone else. He is his own master. A man who orders a rye, neat, because it’s "manly" is far less masculine than the man who proudly sips a peach Bellini because he likes the taste. Real men have nothing to prove to anyone, and this sets them free. This is not to be confused with the "real men wear pink" attitude. This implies that the only reason you wear pink is because you think daring to wear a feminine color makes you manly. Real men wear pink because they genuinely enjoy looking fabulous. We no longer live in a time where one must project an ideal of masculinity to aspire to a higher station. Celebrate the fact that all it takes to be alpha as **** in this world is a strong commitment to ignoring the peanut gallery and doing what makes you happy.
Too often, while my friends sip their black coffee like medicine in Brody, I notice them noticing my java chip. I don’t mind, because I know it is manlier to do whatever you want than it is to live your life worried about the image you project. So don't take little glances at my delicious drink – go ahead and stare. Your envy makes me feel like a man.
Will Marcus is a sophomore majoring in International Studies from Austin, TX. He is an Opinions Staff Writer for the News-Letter.
