By Rana Ballout
Über Rules, OK!
There is a new breed of Man afoot. Suave, calm, collected with an exuberant lifestyle to match. Red-blooded yet sensitive, he looks and acts like a cross between cool Clint Eastwood and heartwarming celebrity chef Jamie Oliver. In other words, he can cook something up in the kitchen while throwing a punch. Ladies, get your smelling salts out, the ‘über-sexual’ has wrangled his way into our consciousness, dressed-to-the-nines in a beautifully tailored Ozwald Boateng suit, Paul Smith shirt and John Lobb lace-ups. Reeking of the latest haute-eau-de-toilette, he’s finally staking his claim to exist – body-slamming the David Beckham metro-sexual in a manner reminiscent of his Homo Sapiens-self in a scene from Stanley Kubrick’s haunting evolutionary epic 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I can hear you sigh with relief. It is, finally, the end of a rather confusing era. Men are doffing turn-of-the-century notions of revamped Boy George masculinity. In one fell swoop, George ‘McSwooney’ Clooney, George Qordahi and U2 front man Bono are taking centre stage and men (nearly) everywhere are paying attention and taking notes.
So, what is an ‘über-sexual’? Well, he is a man’s man without being a misogynist. A lady killer, able to distinguish between Prada and Promod, he still rolls his eyes at extended conversations on this season’s fashion foibles, having no qualms yawning and striding off alone into the sunset. He meticulously primps himself but manages to make it look effortless. He is the diamond with the rough.
This man takes a stand. He embraces and espouses causes other than himself. He is well versed in current affairs, property prices and the latest goings-on in Hollywood, but to a lesser degree. The ‘über-sexual’ is just as likely to join Greenpeace as he is to adopt an African child or spend thousands on a health club membership and bi-weekly fusion massages at a five-star spa. He can be hitched like Ragheb Alameh or dump established ideas altogether and grow old in the comfort of a long-term companionship à la Robert Redford. He is Gone with the Wind’s Rhett Butler minus the tacky mustache but with the charmingly sardonic laugh.
Is this ‘über-sexual’ the ideal male? Well, he’s different. He is independent. He can cook, clean if need be (he is also capable of finding a cleaner), fold his clothes and know how he wants his shirts ironed. He can just as easily pack a weekend camping bag as an overnight business case. In other words, he doesn’t need the opposite sex in the classical sense. He is his own person. Having shaken off the shackles of his forefathers, he is free. And for women, that is the most thrilling – read dangerous – aspect of all. The writing is on the wall, ok?
