I am not the prototypical male. There are things that I enjoy that are considered feminine by my Y-chromosome brethren. I enjoy shopping for clothing and shoes, I wear girls’ jeans (because I want to be Mick Jagger), I read “GQ,” I watch “Project Runway” and “America’s Next Top Model” and I sometimes get facials.
Don’t get me wrong, I have masculine traits: I am a diehard Washington Redskins fan, I love to play soccer, video games, read comics and look at cars but the one thing that connects me most to the rest of the chaps carting around external genitalia is my attraction to those with two X-chromosomes.
Unlike the stereotypical frat guy I don’t see a “shortie” and then make moves to “tap dat ass.”
My friend “Steve” (you may remember Steve from the Nov. 6, 2006, article “Beer goggles for your ears”) is not of the same moral fiber. In February, Steve and his longtime girlfriend broke up after a three-year relationship. Upon hearing the news that he had broken up with the girl that he had once talked about marrying I thought I would see a different side of Steve. Expecting a maudlin version of the blithe guy I know I placed a supportive hand on Steve’s shoulder and asked, “How are things going man?” Instead of getting the hard luck story I expected I got, “Pretty good man, check out the pictures this banging girl sent me.” Then on Steve’s camera phone I see a half-nude co-ed doing her best “come get me, you horny tiger” face. Later than night without even flinching Steve “boinked” the first girl other than his long-time girlfriend less than 24 hours after they broke up.
Over the next few weeks Steve carried on this relationship and never looked back. Along the way Steve also picked up two other girls putting himself in a love “square.” Again without flinching Steve added two more marks to the tally on his bedpost, bringing the tally to 20. In the middle of this tangled web that Steve had woven he went back to his former for a booty call turning the love square into a love “pentagon.” A week later the love pentagon had been trimmed down to two, Steve and his former ex-girlfriend.
Steve in a little over a month had had sex with three girls and gotten back with the one he had wanted all along. He had done something I would never do, but being that I have that Y-chromosome a part of me will always be jealous of Steve’s bedpost tally and a little part of me will always wish that I was more like him.
Then again I am sure that Steve will always wish he was a little more like me, without a past that he has to tell the one he marries about and having to wonder if she is always speculating if she is the best he has ever had. Steve is my anti-hero and I guess I am his.

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