Not that Carnivorous Cow allowed him the chance to answer. If Gramsci couldn't recognise a rhetorical question, that was _his_ problem. She shook her head slowly. "These poor boys don't know whether they're Arthur or Martha. They're more girly than the girls, without being camp or effeminate. But they're _sensitive_. They have active listening skills, they have empathy, they talk about _feelings_" - a shudder passed through her bovine bulk - "and, worst of all, they have political correctness." She sighed, dramatically.
"Girls love them, but like gay best friends. They love discussing their boyfriends with them, the problems in their relationships. They love to go shopping with them, or to chick flicks or art house movies - stuff they can't do with their boyfriends. Or their girlfriends, mostly - would you trust the sartorial advice of someone who's planning to outdazzle you at Friday's party? So these poor boys get dragged along like fashion accessories, and discarded whenever a piece of eye candy with more testosterone than sensitivity comes along."
Gramsci hesitated. Was this not the Ideal Man, much vaunted by an industryful of women's magazines and talkshows? "Gmf!" exploded the Cow. "The media might think they're reflecting a social trend, but what they're really trying to do is create one in the face of resistance! That kind of thing might be popular with senior undergraduate students, who can afford to be both PC and irresponsible, but it's a short-lived phase. What teenage girls want is a butch, stunning piece of male physique who'll take them out, buy them lots of Red Squares and get them legless, then take them home and have their way with them. That way they can have all the fun without the responsibility of having made the choice to abandon their virtue. They want to be able to say they did it, but they don't want to have to own up to having made the choice of their own volition. These boys that see them as more than just sex objects, empowering them to make their own choices, they're never going to get out of the starting blocks on this one!"
Gramsci mulled over that. It certainly did resonate - teenage girls wanting it both ways, the experience without the reputation. There was still very much a double standard in place when it came to matters of sexual reputation. But surely they outgrew that?
"Oh, it just gets worse as women mature," Carnivorous Cow rolled her eyes dramatically. "Why do you think toy boys are still such a niche phenomenon? Women might like equality in the bedroom, but they don't want to have to do all the teaching, take charge, set the pace and all that! They're too busy running their workplaces, their families, their social schedules, their lives - they want someone with a bit of initiative, a bit of drive - someone who's at least an equal. They spend all day negotiating deadlines and project plans and lift schedules, they don't still want to spend forty-five minutes negotiating who's turn it is to be on top. That's time that could have been spent reading a few chapters of the new Van Heerden novel, or finding out when the new Wallace and Gromit is set for release locally, or tuning the Lamborghini. And they especially" - more eye rolling - "don't want to talk about _feelings_!"
Gramsci was getting the picture. And it looked to him pretty much like damned if you do, damned if you don't. But he knew better than to open his mouth. After all, if a great mind like Sigmund Freud couldn't puzzle out what it was women wanted, what hope did a mere spider have?