What Did You Call Me?

Okay:

So, the other day I got into an argument with a friend of mine. As you know, I am an asshole, and it's not entirely uncommon for me to get into arguments with my friends. But this time, it was different. Usually I'm just bored and I feel like being confrontational or contrary. But, I think I may have been truly insulted.

She called me the "M" word.

For the record, I've been a snazzy dresser for a while. Back before Andre 3000 and Kanye West made it trendy, I had my own style. Ask anyone who's known me for a while.

Also, I have always taken great pride in my grooming. I'm not what I would call meticulous, but I do pay attention to things like facial hair and nail length. You know. The basics. What kind of dirty motherfucker doesn't?

And I have eclectic tastes in art. I love musicals. But I do not plan on seeing Mama Mia. Looks cheesy. I have fastidious tastes in furniture. I wouldn't be caught dead with a black leather sofa or a glass coffee table. Even if someone was giving it to me for free. I'd rather have no furniture at all. Lawns chairs and a trunk with a mud cloth draped over it would be more charming.

I once went to pick a woman up from her house and realized after looking at her furniture that we could never be serious. She had a nice home, but it looked like a goddamn furniture store show room. You're not supposed to buy the fucking knick knacks and shit. You collect those things over time, with intent and care. You don't just buy a fucking living room starter kit from Marlo. Everyone knows that.

But I digress.

These days all this means I'm what they call a Metrosexual.

If you ask a woman she'll tell you that a Metrosexual is a straight man with taste. But we men know it means closet fag.

When I look at Kanye West, or Diddy, I can see how the term can be justifiably applied. Not that I think either man is gay. But the difference between them and me is, they are vain, almost to an effeminate point. I'm not vain at all, actually. I'm neurotic and narcissistic. To the untrained eye, it seems similar. But there's a huge difference.

I, for example, could very easily slip into I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck mode if some other aspect of my life is taking precedence over personal appearance. As long as it's about me, it can hold my attention indefinitely. I could go weeks without shaving or cutting my nails or getting a haircut, which, I imagine, would be a big no-no for a true Metrosexual.

So I told her to go fuck herself.


Thanks for reading.


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Postscript: Let's try to come up with a better label for me. Any suggestions?