Note: This column was written three weeks ago and will no doubt seem confusing, even disturbing, if Donald Trump won the election. Readers who wish to complain can reach the author through the U.S. Consulate in Amsterdam, where he is seeking asylum.
The Boys-Will-Be-Boys Guy died Tuesday after a long battle with modernity. He was as old as civilization itself.
The end came with the results of the American presidential election, which repudiated the B-W-B-B Guy so thoroughly that he gasped and withered away. Witnesses say his last act was to reach his right arm out in what appeared to be a fevered, delusional attempt to honk a breast.
The B-W-B-B Guy adopted many aliases over the years: cad, rake, playboy, pickup artist, bounder, playa, frat boy, as well as such recent trivializing formulations as Gropey McGroperson. But he always remained the same guy, one who felt entitled to paw women, degrade women, objectify women, while remaining free from criticism based on the dubious claim that his gender has a genetically uncontrollable impulse to breed.
Historically the B-W-B-B Guy always had male friends in high places, and he deployed them shrewdly in his own defense. Among these was Sigmund Freud, whose “Civilization and Its Discontents” posited that many of the psychological ills of modern society were the result of the prissy stifling of basic male urges dating to Paleolithic times, such as having sex with whom you please when you please. (Herr Freud also came up with “penis envy,” to explain why all women are so emotionally unstable and prone to hysteria.)
Until very recently, the B-W-B-B Guy’s enablers included corporate wrist-slappers who regarded sexually predatory behavior, in terms of required punishment, to be somewhere on the level of “tardiness,” “unauthorized use of the copy machine” and “engaging in horseplay during business hours.”
The B-W-B-B Guy’s health began to decline during the heyday of the feminist movement and was hastened by public cases involving prominent, powerful men who put on their payroll busty young things who could not type, who French-kissed employees without their consent, engaged in unwanted phone sex with co-workers while loudly fantasizing about the use of falafel as a shower sponge, and casually referenced, in conversations with female employees, Long Dong Silver. But the B-W-B-B Guy’s life was not in jeopardy until this election cycle when his favorite surrogate, a boorish billionaire developer, began to lose badly to a female opponent whose popularity ratings suggest she is less desirable to the public than certain nonfatal intestinal parasites.
The mogul’s startling use of women as commodities and targets for non-consensual sex led to a remarkable backlash against the B-W-B-B Guy, including scenes that would have been unthinkable in earlier times, such as high school athletes who, in full testosteronal rebellion, sullenly posed for a photograph wearing “Wild Feminist” T-shirts. Amazingly, a male TV personality, a genre of sycophant known as the Haw-Haw Guy, was fired for merely having listened to and laughed at one of the billionaire’s sexist rants 11 years ago.
In most circles, news of the B-W-B-B Guy’s passing was not met with regret or grief. “He should neither be missed nor mourned, especially not by men,” said college professor Gina Barreca, who teaches feminist literature. “All he did was propagate the degrading stereotype that men are animals who, without the civilizing imprint of women, would pee in the corners of rooms. Though, to be fair, there is a kernel of truth to this.”
The B-W-B-B Guy’s family asks that in lieu of flowers, contributions be made to Hooters restaurants.
Survivors include the thousands of children he sired, all male, each by a different woman. The world will be watching these guys carefully.
For stories, features such as Date Lab, @Work Advice and more, visit WP Magazine.
Follow the Magazine on Twitter.
Like us on Facebook.
Email us at firstname.lastname@example.org.