Dear Soft Millennial Man,
You’ve been quiet lately, but we know you’re still out there. You’re probably hiding out at Whole Foods until this whole “is America a dictatorship?” question gets settled. Smart move. Hopefully, this letter reaches you before you stumble through a trapdoor on the internet and the manosphere eats your brain. There are a few things we, heterosexual millennial women, want you to know before it’s too late.
For starters, we apologize for complaining about the mustache you grew for Movember, and for using the term “Dad Bod” to describe how you look in your swimsuit. We also regret our lackluster support for your hobbies. In hindsight, pickling vegetables and making sourdough starter are two of the more benign things a guy can do with his time. Our bad, Millennial Man.
We understand that the times are a-changin’, but we hope you’ll more or less stay the same. We’re not saying that you’re perfect, but your flaws—like the second Bush Administration—are starting to look quaint from our current vantage point in the MAGAverse circle of hell. Contrary to what you may be hearing on TikTok, you don’t need to learn mixed martial arts or eat more protein. And unless you’re Michael B. Jordan, we don’t care about your muscles. If you don’t believe us, just look at Timothee Chalamet; men with spaghetti arms can be sex symbols, too. You just need confidence, great hair, and generational talent.
Speaking of muscle: We know that your hunter-gather brain wants to protect us, but it’s 2025, and no neighboring tribes are looking to ransack the village and drag us off as concubines. If you’re feeling the urge to show off your man-strength, there’s probably a jar in the fridge you can open for us, or a spider in the basement you could kill. We also still welcome your help with the Roku and are willing to set aside our opposition to traditional gender roles when it comes to taking out the trash.
If you’re still feeling the need to impress us, please don’t challenge another man to a cage fight on X. What really turns us on is a guy who isn’t afraid of feelings. Make supportive eye contact with us while we cry, and you’ll steal our hearts forever. If that sounds like more than you can handle, there’s no need to worry. As long as you can hold a job for six months and watch a child for up to two hours, most of us already consider you marriage material.
We know podcasts are all the rage these days, and that you might be feeling tempted to check out one of those shows where the host interviews vaccine skeptics and Nazi sympathizers. Might we suggest instead a marathon of all those Marvel movies we once refused to watch with you? Stay away from Joe Rogan forever, and we’ll give you a lifetime of Monday Night Football plus one free Saturday of uninterrupted video game playing in your underwear.
All we ask, soft Millennial Man, is that you keep being you. Keep going to brunch and watering your plants. Keep standing in line for cronuts, listening to Mumford & Sons, and watching YouTube videos of men unboxing sneakers. We know we complained about these things in the past, but we’ve come to realize that you, the man who brews beer in our closet, are the most evolved of your species. So, why not pretend it’s still 2017? We can grab an $11 slice of avocado toast at the coffee shop, and spend eternity browsing the West Elm website looking at midcentury furniture for the home we’ll never be able to buy.
It might not be the life either of us dreamed of, but things could be worse. They already are.
Yours Truly,
A Blue-State Millennial Woman
