I have to confess the J-Lo phenomenon was a difficult one for me to understand. Not that she’s an unattractive woman or anything, but let’s face it: She possesses a reverse of what most men would consider to be the ideal bust-to-butt ratio, if decades of Playboy, Maxim and the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue are any guide.

It wasn’t until reading an article by the expatriate sage, Fred Reed, that I finally began to understand why Ms. Lopez – or is that Lopez-Anthony now, I’m never quite sure about these things – should present such an appealing image to the young men of America. For, as Fred writes:

The embittered single American women in my town do not understand why, believing that men only want young Mexican bodies. Everything, they assume, must be sex. Yeah. Sure. … In Mexico you don’t marry one of the guys. You don’t marry a child-support bomb waiting to explode without visitation. You don’t marry a hundred pounds of irrational anger looking for an excuse. You marry a woman. The difference … my God, the difference.

Jennifer Lopez is not Mexican, to be sure, but she is nevertheless the symbolic antithesis of the Single White Female. Nor does the fact that she is a career woman with what would appear to be a serious set of relationship issues – it’s a tossup between her and Ms. Spears as to who will catch Liz Taylor first – change the fact that she symbolizes, a priori, something very different than what young American men have been taught to believe is the archetypical single white American female.

The modern American woman prides herself on being strong, intelligent and independent. She insists she is just the same as a man in those few areas where she is not superior. She demands the right to be accepted exactly as she is, while claiming the right to modify everything about any man who is so foolish as to become involved with her. She is a goddess – glorious and pagan – requiring nothing more than a mortal male satellite to reflect the light of her shining splendour.

She holds firmly to these beliefs, even as she drugs herself to the gills with Prozac and sees a therapist twice a week, all the while whining to everyone within earshot that the men around her are too intimidated to ask her out.

A gentle word of advice would perhaps be useful here. The fact that men smile nervously at you and sidle away quietly at the first opportunity does not mean that they are intimidated by you. It is also possible that they have simply concluded you are a lunatic.

I once dated a delightful Asian girl, the daughter of immigrants who barely spoke a word of English. It was instructive to discover how this brought out a disdainful racism in many of the upper-middle-class white girls of my acquaintance, of which I had hitherto been unaware. In this, they echoed the defensive contempt of their ancestors, the Imperial British, whose women forced their husbands to exclude from the ruling social circle those men who had “gone native.”

The great achievement of feminism is twofold. First, it allowed young men to obtain easy sex without the price of marriage or a prostitute. Second, it allowed men over the age of 60 to exit the workforce and be maintained by the labors of their newly employed daughters. When one considers the evidence, one is forced to conclude that Ms. Steinhem and Ms. Friedan were either appallingly stupid or agent provocateurs of the dread Patriarchy.

Even so, I do not despise American women. Quite to the contrary, I very much admire those who possess the courage, the character and the feminine spirit to reject the poisoned propaganda of the self-destructive Sisterhood and be women. It requires far more genuine strength and independence for a young American woman to become a lady today than it does for her to devolve into a faux male – those who manage the feat are princesses for whom a man might well wish to slay a dragon or three.

Instead of regarding her ethnic rivals with ill-concealed fear and loathing, the wise SWF would do well to consider why they should hold such appeal to the modern American SWM. Otherwise … well … there’s always those reruns of “Sex in the City.”

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