Unlike some of the shallow, paleolithic men out there, I prefer a natural woman without makeup. Actual lashes instead of fake Muppet ones. Real skin instead of caked-on purple-glitter mush. Shredded cuticles and uneven nails chewed up from anxiety instead of pointy acrylics.
Women should adhere to my sophisticated, progressive opinion. I don’t want to be deceived by concealer and contour. I want an authentic woman with dark bags under her eyes from not having slept for days and blemishes dotting her cheeks from pimples past. There’s no need to spend hundreds of dollars on retinol to prevent aging. I love crow’s feet. I want to grab fistfuls of white hair while I kiss turkey-like jowls. I know you think since all my exes are fifteen years younger than me, I don’t mean that, but that’s just a coincidence. I would totally date someone older than me, like Naomi Campbell or Julia Louis Dreyfus.
We men also face pressure, so I get it. But I choose to be my natural self. Similarly, a woman should keep the stubble that grows on her chin in small spikes. I want to braid the thick hair protruding from a woman’s armpit like Rapunzel’s mane. I want to kiss every centimeter of her unibrow—my little Frida Kahlo. When I wake up in the morning next to a woman, I want to look directly at her nose hairs and caress them. What’s the worst thing that can happen if women stop shaving, waxing, and lasering every inch of hair? Maybe some people will stop dating them. But own it! Confidence is the most attractive thing.
It’s so odd that more hairy, unconventional women aren’t starring in Hollywood movies, gracing magazine covers, and acting in hair-removal commercials. I’m sure that will be the case soon.
I am not attracted to women who get dolled up in full glam with Spandex and push-up bras. Why must women insist on hoodwinking their partners? Show off the muffin top. Unveil the saggy tits. Enough with those skimpy stilettos, pantyhose, and bodycon dresses—they make women look like desperate Only Fans types. Men prefer women whose loose body parts flail about like a tube man outside a car dealership. Sure, my girlfriend has a symmetrical face, an hourglass figure, and a rare disease where hair can’t grow on her body (that’s what she tells me), but that’s not all I like about her. She’s also really nice.
I’m grossed out by the cunning pretense of spray tans, lightening creams, wigs, boob jobs, BBLs, fillers, and Botox. It seems like every woman these days purchases luscious lips, high cheekbones, and double Ds to become a carbon copy of Kim Kardashian. Men don’t want to date Kim, voted the most beautiful woman in the world; men want their women to look as pale and/or as dark-skinned as they naturally are. I don’t know where women get this idea that they have to get rid of buccal fat and stretch marks and have a thigh gap. All of the women I follow on Instagram and jerk off to don’t have those things, but they’re that way naturally without getting any work done. Sometimes Jameela Jamil even posts about how she has arm fat. I still think she’s hot!
My biggest pet peeve is FaceTune. A face that looks like the tush of a hairless cat? The ultimate catfish. Men don’t care how women—whether actresses, CEOs, or congresswomen—look online. When Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez speaks, her appearance probably doesn’t even cross anyone’s mind as a point of contention.
Women are always complaining about how much money they spend on makeup, but they’re forgetting that that’s a decision they’re making. They can stop anytime they want. To me, it seems that they do not possess the mental dexterity to ignore the influx of TikToks, commercials, movies, and department-store size charts informing them that beauty is the single most important thing about them. I’m sure it’s hard to be told since you’re a baby that your worth evades you with the first gray hair, but have they tried, like, ignoring that and thinking for themselves?
The lengths some of these women go to to look white and thin and cis just because of all the historical violence … it’s like, get thicker skin! I’m personally excited to be a silver fox. What are women so worried about? That as soon as a younger version of them slides into their boyfriend’s DMs, he will abruptly turn into Leonardo DiCaprio or Woody Allen or Dane Cook or Bill Clinton?
No one is forcing women to look beautiful, least of all me. Intelligence, a sense of humor, and an obsession with my every word and thought rank at the top of my priorities for a partner. Maybe women should spend more time reading Foucault, listening to the B-sides of the Beatles, or catering to my every whim instead of putting all their energy into juice cleanses and Ozempic. What makes them think they have to resort to diabetes medicine to look forever young and thin? Being plus-sized should be normalized. I would totally date a woman who wears size 6.