Column

I am so tired of the ‘new’ man emerging every second day in popular media. From the traditional heterosexual we went to the slick and buffed metrosexual. Then we returned to machismo via the retrosexual, revolted against nomenclatures with the pomosexual, loved sans gender bias like the pansexuals, and then got elevated to the refined übersexual. The lexicons of trend writers are being stretched thin in the attempt to classify and categorise men.

And in the midst of all this what has been happening to the men around us? Are they any different from those that were around yesterday? And most importantly, is there any one kind which is more irresistible to women than the other? The more I thought about this, and then thought about the men around me…and the men no longer around me (either by choice or design), it struck me that the kind of men we women like (and retain) is not to be found in trend analyses at all. Rather, he is what occult literature defines as the embodiment of the perfect human being — the Androgynous Man.

In mythical representation, he is a two—headed creature with a man and a woman’s head emerging from a huge fiery serpent which represents the morass of base, sexual desires. This Androgyne, surrounded by the moon, the sun and five planets of the solar system, each representing a benign force, has the perfect balance of female and male qualities, so as to emerge as the complete being.

The androgynous man doesn’t filch our face creams as metrosexuality suggests. Rather, he is particular about being clean and neat (including hands, feet and nails) and is appropriately well—turned out at most times. He may have well—developed aesthetics when it comes to home décor but he doesn’t expound for hours on muslin versus damask for curtain fabric…that too while wearing purple pants! And while he may know how to make pesto (considering he enjoys eating it as much), he is still perfectly able to wear the pants when the occasion demands and drop them with assured ease when the occasion warrants, as well. He won’t sit with the tissue box at the movies, but his eyes will prick with tears if he’s lost someone he loved. And if he meets you after a while, he won’t squeal and hug and say, “It’s been ages, we MUST catch up over a lunch soon!” but he’ll be the first to tell you, “I think we need to talk” if there’s something rotten in the state of Denmark (aka your relationship).

He may sound like an impossible concoction, but he isn’t. Look around you; most women in successful relationships aren’t with bulldozing alpha males or ineffectual wimps. Successful relationships aren’t built with two—dimensional human beings. It takes confident men with a bit of yin and a bit of yang served sunny side up (well ok, sometimes stormy side up!) to tango through the journey of life.

Further proof required that the androgynous man actually exists? Voila Rolling Stones! Men who are old enough to be my grandfathers are still wearing leather and latex, having giant—sized pouty lips promote their new tour, AND hitting it off with women with as much ease as they did 40 years ago.

Closer to home, Shah Rukh Khan isn’t King Khan because of his waxed chest or capacity to shed copious tears. No matter the horrid rumours, no one can spread their arms and look into the eyes of every woman in that dark cinema hall with as much intensity as he can. And look sexier than the heroine in a rain sequence.

In case you’re still not convinced, I would’ve loved to stay back and try harder, but I’m rushing out to catch Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest on big screen. Jack Sparrow with kohl—lined eyes and fey wickedness is the stuff my dreams are made of!