June 1, 2004

It's an urban jungle out there—especially for an arrow-straight male in touch with his feminine side. From flat-front trousers to oatmeal facial scrubs to fine interior design, this wry debut gathers the chromosomal contemplations of a “metrosexual”—a modern-day “X”-man who can't help but wonder “Y.” Law-school dropout, former Vanity Fair staffer, and confirmed heterosexual Hyman covets the tony Manhattan lifestyle—the classy girlfriend, the well-appointed co-op apartment, the career that gains him entrée into the exclusive Upper West Side. Instead, his world is a veritable dim sum of bewildering social encounters—dates who vomit, a luscious threesome that goes limp, and a handsome massage therapist with a curious “release” technique. All the while, men and women gaze at the author's slight build and natty dress and conclude that he's gay. (A writing assignment requiring him to wear a leather ensemble worthy of the Village People does little to dissuade.) A master of self-deprecation in the spirit of Joe Queenan and P. J. O'Rourke, Hyman takes on contemporary culture with a scalpel and a smirk. — Allison Block

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