It’s Career Day at Gawker. Today we learn about how to be a “literary manboy.” I was happily/worriedly checking off boxes when I realized I’m still a good nine years below the beginning of the designated age range (36-45). Also, the Gawker piece is actually a response to this Times profile of a freelance journalist named John Bowe. The piece is called “A Bachelor’s Effort to Understand Love,” which is a feat I have never even attempted, so uh–bullet dodged? Also, the Gawker piece ends with this priceless rant by the great Moe Tkacik-
I also asked Moe Tkacik, a former Jezebel and Gawker editor, what she thought. Her analysis was that men are “just incredibly late, and until then loathe, to acknowledge that there are rewards and advantages to companionship/fidelity/love that aren’t purely romantic/sexual/possibly, on some largely delusional level ‘spiritual.’ So they conflate ‘that time when I allowed myself to be vulnerable because I was in fucking Saipan WRITING A BOOK ABOUT MODERN DAY SLAVERY OF ALL LIFE AFFIRMING THINGS’ or ‘that time when I was somehow more emotionally available — possibly I suppose owing in part to the fact that I was fifteen years old?’ with ‘the only real time I fell in love,’ the transcendence of which, until it is somehow surpassed — not super likely to happen at the next Housing Works party btw — stands as the unimpeachable order from within themselves to neglect all other minor romances.”
A+, Moe, though for the record, wonderful things can and do happen at Housing Works parties. Happy Friday, everyone!