Who’s the man? The "alpha male" is. The female of any species is designed to desire the strongest male available — or the smartest or the richest or simply the one with the biggest dick.
That’s the bare-bones reality of human nature, at least according to evolutionary scientists. It doesn’t matter how much good PR the "sensitive guy" gets these days. Deep inside, chicks will always love the men they hate to love: the two-timing assholes, the jerks, the playboys. Oh, and how they would love to tame one for a trophy!
As to which criteria are the most important in determining "alpha manhood", that would depend on what the species perceives as the most effective way in which to survive and propagate. In essence, sexual selection is the interface between "male competition" and "female choice."
For example, male gorillas have evolved to become the biggest, strongest and most sexually dimorphic (i.e. big size difference between males and females) among all primates. That’s because in gorilla society, males rely on a very violent form of "male competition" (i.e. beating other males to death or beating unfaithful females to death) in order to reproduce. Ironically, gorillas have the smallest testicles among all the great apes. Who needs big balls if you’ve crushed all the other balls in the field?
On the other hand, male chimpanzees are roughly the same size as females, but have notoriously the biggest testicles in all of Apedom. That’s because female chimpanzees are highly promiscuous, and so males with bigger balls (producing more sperm) have a better chance of winning the "sperm wars" raging inside females’ wombs.
The rule of thumb is: The more promiscuous the females of the species, the bigger the balls of the males.
And what of humans? Let’s just say that the only thing human males have to show – over the course of 4 million years of human evolution – are balls that are bigger than our brains. =P Enough said.
Anyway, about ten years ago I wrote a semi-confessional article that was published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer’s "Young Blood" column, back when I was still, well, "boy toy material". Writing the article with the vigor and idealism of youth, I used the alpha male concept in attacking the ills plaguing not only Philippine society at the time, but also my own transformation as a clueless twenty-something.
Now thirty-something years old and still clueless, I can only look back with both amusement and terror at how much (and how little) I’ve changed. Amused because I now know that there are more important things in life than dating older women – such as dating younger women. Joke. I have since mellowed down and have been trying very hard to live out the true meaning of the word "commitment". Promise. With a new lease on life, the least I could do is to earn it. Naks. =)
And yet at the same time I am terrified because, like most men hurtling through the third decade of their life, I am struck by the slow, painful realization that I might — just yet — transform into the same alpha male I used to revile in my youth.
I am reprinting the article below. Me the man. You the judge.
**
YOUNGBLOOD, Philippine Daily Inquirer, January 2001
Alpha males, Erap hairdo and then some (dimsum)
By Ryan Asis Maniago
"Dimsum," my Chinese boss once told me, “means ‘point to your heart’s desire.’"
This interesting piece of trivia crossed my mind as the Filipino waiter in Chinese garb wheeled a dimsum cart past my table. I called him and pointed to my heart’s desire – hargow (fresh shrimp dumplings), pai kwat (spare ribs in bean sauce), and taro puffs.
I was alone that night in an obscure Chinese restaurant for a quick bite after a hunting mission in downtown Manila bore no fruit. The place was abloom with women. Here’s a tip: hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurants, those that open until the wee hours to accommodate famished after-party survivors, are prime pick-up places. It’s a habit unbecoming of a good hunter, I admit, but even lions are known to scavenge if they fail to snag a prey.
Fresh steam greeted my face when I uncovered one of the round bamboo containers used in cooking and serving the dumplings. Seated in another table across me was a middle-aged couple whose attention was aroused by my choice of dimsum. They were signaling for the waiter to get the same dish I was having.
The wife was stunningly beautiful and well-kept despite her mature age. The husband, in contrast, was a weathered, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed fellow who resembled Erap (former Philippine president Joseph Estrada) with his grotesque hairdo and macho moustache. He looked rich, too. I had actually seen this same man before in another restaurant with another woman, a much younger one. I thought to myself, is it the moustache or the mansions that lure mistresses to a man?
I have neither. At 25 years old, all I have is my youth and vigor. I craned my neck to have a better view of the wife.
She smiled. For the next few minutes we were giving each other stolen glances, but that was all we could do. That was all I could do under the illicit circumstances. I am not a pro. Nor do I have many mansions.
But when the husband snuggled close to her, pecked her cheek and threw me a dagger look, I realized that was the obligatory chest-thumping and territorial pissing all male primates are known for. And so I had to swing my eyes between the husband’s ire and the wife’s fire. To cushion the colliding glances, I took deep drags at my cigarette and blew smoke rings into the air. The smokescreen proved futile, though, as the husband’s passing glances morphed into a hard, angry stare. I looked away.
The old man was out of shape and I knew I could beat him up to a pulp if provoked, but that kind of machismo isn’t my thing. As Michael Jackson would say, "I’m a lover, not a fighter." Not that Michael Jackson is my kind of thing, either.
What is it with aging men that make them hang on to their egos like fools to gold? I contend that men spend an entire lifetime building walls around their fragile egos only to find out in mid-life that the walls will come tumbling down to crush the very temple of worship they seek to protect. Panic is the inevitable and most natural reaction.
To help answer my question, I’ve been nursing this pet theory called the "alpha male syndrome." In chimp society, the "alpha male" is the strongest, most virile male in the group, called "party-gangs" by anthropologists. Chimpanzees, our closest cousins (the face of Jose de Venecia comes to mind), are known to engage in intense dominance games to determine who the alpha male is. These include raucous displays such as shouting, posturing, hurling stones and dragging wooden branches on the ground. Building mansions and drinking expensive whisky are recent innovations.
Aside from his male allies, the dominant chimp relies on female chimpanzees to affirm his alpha status and determine the length of his tenure which, like all tenures built on power, is bound to end. While he has it, though, he enjoys first choice in food, females and other resources.
What he doesn’t realize is that at its peak, power can breed complacency – while the alpha male is busy roughing it up with the boys, female chimpanzees are known to sneak out of the harem to sleep with rival males.
I glanced at the couple again and caught the wife smiling at me in come-hither fashion. The husband was busy wolfing a jumbo siopao, which he held with thick, knobby fingers, before washing it all down with a mouthful of San Miguel beer.
He chewed his food religiously and with relish, like a certified carnivore.
Then his chewing stopped. I had been caught ogling. I had no choice but to bow my head in humility. Subordinate male chimps are expected to pay homage to the alpha male by making subservient gestures, such as showing him one’s "humbled" genitals. I don’t think that bowing my head gave him any view of my penis, but I did see something down there that was just as, well, "swell-headed."
Erap’s face was splashed all over the front page of the newspaper that lay forgotten on my lap. It was yesterday’s news, but I picked it up just the same to divert my attention and shield my face from the husband’s piercing eyes.
The headlines were nothing new: Erap, Erap, Erap and more Erap. Erap fever is everywhere, I said to myself. We see him in the papers, on TV, in posters and stickers, even in Chinese restaurants – like the "alpha male" seated in front of me. I asked myself, could Erap possibly think he is the ultimate Filipino "alpha male?"
The indicators are there – the women, the macho posturing, the stubborn insistence to hold on to the highest position of the land. I can understand that. Men of his generation are typically pampered and spoiled with the privileges of patriarchy and the illusion of being on top. Their entire lifetime is an ego trip. Why relinquish the driver’s seat if you’re still enjoying the ride?
Because you’re out of gas, grandpas. The "alpha male syndrome" has taken effect. Alpha males, despite the initial complacency, are subject to great crisis once they start showing signs of decline. Testosterone levels wane, hairlines recede, virility goes down the hill. Some people call this phase "mid-life crisis" or "male menopause" (or the more benign-sounding "andropause"). Unlike typical male menopause, however, the alpha male syndrome takes on a more political and not just a physical dimension.
In alternating fits of denial and panic, the alpha male realizes that he has no choice but to amass great wealth in his pocket so that there remains at least one bulge in his pants with which to attract women. He hogs up on material wealth to make up for his diminishing physical assets. What happens when a younger, stronger, more virile male enters the picture and threatens to oust him? The plot thickens; that’s what Filipino sexual flicks are made of.
I am not trying to hold Erap up for ridicule – I was a closet Erap fan, probably still am. In fact, I would have voted for him had I cared to vote in ‘98 because of an intuitive sense of trust in his sincerity. I do not mind his lavish lifestyle –– I think altruism can coexist with hedonism. But I do mind the incompetence, the arrogance, the unbending pride.
Right now, amidst the political mess, I can only give him the benefit of my apathy. I simply do not care anymore.
I can only wait for all those prehistoric geezers and aging baby boomers (Viagra candidates all) in government, the opposition and the media to die out so that a new generation of alpha males (and females) can start from scratch and spell out the country’s future "alpha bets." If the pun doesn’t cut it, then I’ll cut my tirade short. Besides, it’s hard to spin ageist rhetoric without revealing my own fears about aging – and the arrogance, the disillusionment, the jadedness that come with it.
"Anti-Erap ka, no?" A tap on my shoulder snapped me from my gaze. The husband, all smiles now, walked past my table with his wife in tow. He was referring to the horns and other markings I had sketched on Erap’s photos in the newspaper. I smiled back.
Beside me, a group of blue-rinse matrons were giggling like schoolgirls in their seats. One of them subtly pouted her lips to point an imaginary finger at me. Her two friends turned their heads and gave me a head-to-toe inspection, then asked for the waiter. Dimsum.
Ryan Asis Maniago, 25, comes from the same school (and school of thought) as Erap.
That’s the bare-bones reality of human nature, at least according to evolutionary scientists. It doesn’t matter how much good PR the "sensitive guy" gets these days. Deep inside, chicks will always love the men they hate to love: the two-timing assholes, the jerks, the playboys. Oh, and how they would love to tame one for a trophy!
As to which criteria are the most important in determining "alpha manhood", that would depend on what the species perceives as the most effective way in which to survive and propagate. In essence, sexual selection is the interface between "male competition" and "female choice."
For example, male gorillas have evolved to become the biggest, strongest and most sexually dimorphic (i.e. big size difference between males and females) among all primates. That’s because in gorilla society, males rely on a very violent form of "male competition" (i.e. beating other males to death or beating unfaithful females to death) in order to reproduce. Ironically, gorillas have the smallest testicles among all the great apes. Who needs big balls if you’ve crushed all the other balls in the field?
On the other hand, male chimpanzees are roughly the same size as females, but have notoriously the biggest testicles in all of Apedom. That’s because female chimpanzees are highly promiscuous, and so males with bigger balls (producing more sperm) have a better chance of winning the "sperm wars" raging inside females’ wombs.
The rule of thumb is: The more promiscuous the females of the species, the bigger the balls of the males.
And what of humans? Let’s just say that the only thing human males have to show – over the course of 4 million years of human evolution – are balls that are bigger than our brains. =P Enough said.
 |
| Female proboscis monkeys shake their heads to solicit sex, which in human terms imply that a 'no' often means a 'yes'. Proboscis males, on the other hand, are known for having a large black scrotum and a red, dangling penis. No, we're not talking about the one on their face. |
Anyway, about ten years ago I wrote a semi-confessional article that was published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer’s "Young Blood" column, back when I was still, well, "boy toy material". Writing the article with the vigor and idealism of youth, I used the alpha male concept in attacking the ills plaguing not only Philippine society at the time, but also my own transformation as a clueless twenty-something.
Now thirty-something years old and still clueless, I can only look back with both amusement and terror at how much (and how little) I’ve changed. Amused because I now know that there are more important things in life than dating older women – such as dating younger women. Joke. I have since mellowed down and have been trying very hard to live out the true meaning of the word "commitment". Promise. With a new lease on life, the least I could do is to earn it. Naks. =)
And yet at the same time I am terrified because, like most men hurtling through the third decade of their life, I am struck by the slow, painful realization that I might — just yet — transform into the same alpha male I used to revile in my youth.
I am reprinting the article below. Me the man. You the judge.
**
YOUNGBLOOD, Philippine Daily Inquirer, January 2001
Alpha males, Erap hairdo and then some (dimsum)
By Ryan Asis Maniago
"Dimsum," my Chinese boss once told me, “means ‘point to your heart’s desire.’"
This interesting piece of trivia crossed my mind as the Filipino waiter in Chinese garb wheeled a dimsum cart past my table. I called him and pointed to my heart’s desire – hargow (fresh shrimp dumplings), pai kwat (spare ribs in bean sauce), and taro puffs.
I was alone that night in an obscure Chinese restaurant for a quick bite after a hunting mission in downtown Manila bore no fruit. The place was abloom with women. Here’s a tip: hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurants, those that open until the wee hours to accommodate famished after-party survivors, are prime pick-up places. It’s a habit unbecoming of a good hunter, I admit, but even lions are known to scavenge if they fail to snag a prey.
Fresh steam greeted my face when I uncovered one of the round bamboo containers used in cooking and serving the dumplings. Seated in another table across me was a middle-aged couple whose attention was aroused by my choice of dimsum. They were signaling for the waiter to get the same dish I was having.
The wife was stunningly beautiful and well-kept despite her mature age. The husband, in contrast, was a weathered, pot-bellied, baggy-eyed fellow who resembled Erap (former Philippine president Joseph Estrada) with his grotesque hairdo and macho moustache. He looked rich, too. I had actually seen this same man before in another restaurant with another woman, a much younger one. I thought to myself, is it the moustache or the mansions that lure mistresses to a man?
I have neither. At 25 years old, all I have is my youth and vigor. I craned my neck to have a better view of the wife.
She smiled. For the next few minutes we were giving each other stolen glances, but that was all we could do. That was all I could do under the illicit circumstances. I am not a pro. Nor do I have many mansions.
But when the husband snuggled close to her, pecked her cheek and threw me a dagger look, I realized that was the obligatory chest-thumping and territorial pissing all male primates are known for. And so I had to swing my eyes between the husband’s ire and the wife’s fire. To cushion the colliding glances, I took deep drags at my cigarette and blew smoke rings into the air. The smokescreen proved futile, though, as the husband’s passing glances morphed into a hard, angry stare. I looked away.
The old man was out of shape and I knew I could beat him up to a pulp if provoked, but that kind of machismo isn’t my thing. As Michael Jackson would say, "I’m a lover, not a fighter." Not that Michael Jackson is my kind of thing, either.
What is it with aging men that make them hang on to their egos like fools to gold? I contend that men spend an entire lifetime building walls around their fragile egos only to find out in mid-life that the walls will come tumbling down to crush the very temple of worship they seek to protect. Panic is the inevitable and most natural reaction.
To help answer my question, I’ve been nursing this pet theory called the "alpha male syndrome." In chimp society, the "alpha male" is the strongest, most virile male in the group, called "party-gangs" by anthropologists. Chimpanzees, our closest cousins (the face of Jose de Venecia comes to mind), are known to engage in intense dominance games to determine who the alpha male is. These include raucous displays such as shouting, posturing, hurling stones and dragging wooden branches on the ground. Building mansions and drinking expensive whisky are recent innovations.
Aside from his male allies, the dominant chimp relies on female chimpanzees to affirm his alpha status and determine the length of his tenure which, like all tenures built on power, is bound to end. While he has it, though, he enjoys first choice in food, females and other resources.
What he doesn’t realize is that at its peak, power can breed complacency – while the alpha male is busy roughing it up with the boys, female chimpanzees are known to sneak out of the harem to sleep with rival males.
I glanced at the couple again and caught the wife smiling at me in come-hither fashion. The husband was busy wolfing a jumbo siopao, which he held with thick, knobby fingers, before washing it all down with a mouthful of San Miguel beer.
He chewed his food religiously and with relish, like a certified carnivore.
Then his chewing stopped. I had been caught ogling. I had no choice but to bow my head in humility. Subordinate male chimps are expected to pay homage to the alpha male by making subservient gestures, such as showing him one’s "humbled" genitals. I don’t think that bowing my head gave him any view of my penis, but I did see something down there that was just as, well, "swell-headed."
Erap’s face was splashed all over the front page of the newspaper that lay forgotten on my lap. It was yesterday’s news, but I picked it up just the same to divert my attention and shield my face from the husband’s piercing eyes.
The headlines were nothing new: Erap, Erap, Erap and more Erap. Erap fever is everywhere, I said to myself. We see him in the papers, on TV, in posters and stickers, even in Chinese restaurants – like the "alpha male" seated in front of me. I asked myself, could Erap possibly think he is the ultimate Filipino "alpha male?"
 |
| When it comes to alpha status, Erap can dangle Pacman like a 5-peso bill. The difference? In the heat of the moment, most women will bang a pirate over a hero. |
The indicators are there – the women, the macho posturing, the stubborn insistence to hold on to the highest position of the land. I can understand that. Men of his generation are typically pampered and spoiled with the privileges of patriarchy and the illusion of being on top. Their entire lifetime is an ego trip. Why relinquish the driver’s seat if you’re still enjoying the ride?
Because you’re out of gas, grandpas. The "alpha male syndrome" has taken effect. Alpha males, despite the initial complacency, are subject to great crisis once they start showing signs of decline. Testosterone levels wane, hairlines recede, virility goes down the hill. Some people call this phase "mid-life crisis" or "male menopause" (or the more benign-sounding "andropause"). Unlike typical male menopause, however, the alpha male syndrome takes on a more political and not just a physical dimension.
In alternating fits of denial and panic, the alpha male realizes that he has no choice but to amass great wealth in his pocket so that there remains at least one bulge in his pants with which to attract women. He hogs up on material wealth to make up for his diminishing physical assets. What happens when a younger, stronger, more virile male enters the picture and threatens to oust him? The plot thickens; that’s what Filipino sexual flicks are made of.
I am not trying to hold Erap up for ridicule – I was a closet Erap fan, probably still am. In fact, I would have voted for him had I cared to vote in ‘98 because of an intuitive sense of trust in his sincerity. I do not mind his lavish lifestyle –– I think altruism can coexist with hedonism. But I do mind the incompetence, the arrogance, the unbending pride.
Right now, amidst the political mess, I can only give him the benefit of my apathy. I simply do not care anymore.
I can only wait for all those prehistoric geezers and aging baby boomers (Viagra candidates all) in government, the opposition and the media to die out so that a new generation of alpha males (and females) can start from scratch and spell out the country’s future "alpha bets." If the pun doesn’t cut it, then I’ll cut my tirade short. Besides, it’s hard to spin ageist rhetoric without revealing my own fears about aging – and the arrogance, the disillusionment, the jadedness that come with it.
"Anti-Erap ka, no?" A tap on my shoulder snapped me from my gaze. The husband, all smiles now, walked past my table with his wife in tow. He was referring to the horns and other markings I had sketched on Erap’s photos in the newspaper. I smiled back.
Beside me, a group of blue-rinse matrons were giggling like schoolgirls in their seats. One of them subtly pouted her lips to point an imaginary finger at me. Her two friends turned their heads and gave me a head-to-toe inspection, then asked for the waiter. Dimsum.
Ryan Asis Maniago, 25, comes from the same school (and school of thought) as Erap.
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