The Legion of DOM
April 18, 2007 | 12:00am
There are no such things as fashion victims. There are only fashion statements. And for most free-size polo barong- and baggy pants-wearing men, this statement is "Please, put me out of my misery."
But before I plunge into self-incrimination, I would like to thank my three female readers for all the advice they’ve shared with me regarding my impending nuptials: Don’t give up on each other. Don’t run home crying to your mom after your first big fight. And don’t let your yaya join you on your honeymoon night. Unfortunately, none of these women have offered to defray the cost of my engagement ring (that’s it, no more free plugging for any of you). And of course, I would like to thank my wonderful fiancée (who regularly checks this column to make sure that I am not flirting with anybody) for letting me keep my books The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pick-Up Artists, Never Satisfied: How & Why Men Cheat and The Art of Seduction, but purely for vicarious reasons.
In fact, she has already placed me on a strict pre-husband training regimen. Since my last column, I have learned that there is no shame in carrying her 50-pound sunflower handbag while window-shopping in the mall or in lining up at the "10 items or less" lane to buy her a pack of sanitary napkins or even getting a Brazilian wax so I can understand the pain that goes into wearing a two-piece swimsuit. I understand that these acts are the first signs of emasculation, which is perfectly normal according to my dad (who incidentally is very good now at color-coordinating my mom’s handbags with her shoes).
Speaking of color coordination, let us talk about a topic that has received as much attention among men as a yearly prostate exam: men’s fashion.
According to the book How To Succeed With Women (an actual 500-page book co-written by a person who consequently penned the book Sexpectations), men usually suffer from the "hoop dreams" syndrome when it comes to scoring with the ladies. Like basketball, men should only be allowed to date women in specific leagues based on a rigorous set of criteria. These criteria include the man’s ability to:
• Maintain a conversation beyond three minutes.
• Earn six figures after taxes.
• Look like Brad Pitt.
If men don’t play in their respective leagues, they will run the risk of financial ruin, public humiliation and permanent groin injury. Unfortunately, most men dream of dating women who belong to the NBA when they can’t even get any playtime in their barangay basketball league.
I have heard of men like these: they are in their mid-30s (in both their age and their waistlines), they think good hygiene is an urban myth, and the only women they have been intimate with are on paper, video or molded in plastic. These very eligible NGSBs (no girlfriend since birth), who have managed to elude stalker charges, are very precise as to the type of women they covet.
Physical attributes: A bosom that will solve third world hunger, legs that can be used as an alternative runway to NAIA-3, and shiny hemispherical buttocks that can serve as homing beacons.
Personality: A great sense of style, young, intelligent, mature, outgoing, conservative, and sexually liberated. And can act like a snooty little b%^%$ in 12-inch high heels when he parades her in public. High school diploma optional.
Health and well-being: These women take care of their Coke-bottle figures by eating shoots and leaves, submerge themselves in whitening solution twice a day, and consider silicone enhancement as a fitness regimen. Preferably above the age of consent.
If women like these exist, tell them to quickly change their names and, for the love of God, please flee the country before the NGSBs at Immigration stop them. But hopefully, if these men had any sense of propriety, shame or clean underwear, they would ask themselves, "If I were to have a woman like that, what type of man should I be?" For all the NGSBs out there, please encircle below if you are any one of these men:
1. Buddha
2. Hugh Hefner
3. Piolo Pascual
Because if you are any of these men, then you really have no more need for any more women (take that to mean whatever you want). However, if you are more hopeful than a KBL senatorial bet, then you might have a fighting chance to date women who can solve third world hunger.
Especially if you are a peacock.
According to Robert Winston, a professor of fertility studies at the University of London, females prefer certain physical traits in a male, and the more pronounced these traits are, the more attractive the man will appear to the woman. But strangely enough, these male physical traits may not have any practical value, such as bushy eyebrows, nipple hair, or overly developed man-breasts.
In nature, the classic example of an impractical male trait is  no, no, no, not the human brain, but something close enough. It is the peacock’s tail. Peacocks arrogantly strut, grab their crotches and arrogantly flash their iridescent feathered plumage in front of peahens’ faces. And often this display is enough to cause most peahens to spontaneously lay eggs.
But despite its attractiveness, the peacock’s tail is an enormous burden. When the peacock is under attack, it has to tuck its tail away in its peacock clutch bag so it doesn’t get wrinkled. Having such a tail is like wearing a barong tagalog (the see-through one and you don’t wear a sando underneath) then engaging in a fistfight with Manny Pacquiao and not expecting any blood spatter on the barong. Hell, even I would want to beat you into bopis if you wore a see-through barong without a sando underneath.
So why do females prefer male physical traits that are pointlessly elaborate and thoroughly disturbing, similar to the production numbers in Sunday variety shows? The late biologist Sir Ronald Fisher described this phenomenon as "runaway sexual selection"  a vicious circle where animals build up magnificent mate-attracting traits, which, at the same time, may also be a handicap to survival.
So does this mean, my once-fellow NGSBs, that you will attract these silicone-augmented women by donning a Chiquita banana headdress, a feather boa, fishnet stockings, patent platform boots and large pink feathers that stick out from your bottom? Remember, what works in the animal world does not necessarily apply in the human world. Unfortunately, there are some men who have taken the "runaway sexual selection" theory too literally. And these men are the DOMs (Dirty Old Men).
You must understand, a peacock’s tail is also meant to show off their status or to frighten away enemies. And this is often the case when it comes to DOM fashion. Their fashion sense has frightened away younger DOMs, small children and even evil spirits. But their fashion sense is also a handicap that prevents them from reproducing. In fact, when women have bangungot, they dream of DOMs.
I was hoping to reveal the persons responsible for DOM fashion, but many of them are either incumbent or running for reelection. This is the reason why DOM fashion was not included in the Anti-Terrorism Law. Thus, if you have any compassion left for the sleepless women across this country, we appeal to the DOMs who are reading this to please avoid these fashion tragedies:
Pelukas that can withstand gunfire, nuclear explosions and government propaganda: I have seen toupees on DOMs that were harder than OFWs who haven’t seen their wives in 10 years. Those toupees are so indestructible that they will survive the next ice age. I say have mercy on your scalps and set them free.
Short-sleeved shirts that are unbuttoned all the way down to the chest: There are many things that are best kept under national security. The winner of the last presidential elections. The results of the Melo Commission. And your man cleavage. DOMs, your bodies are best left exposed only when filled with formaldehyde.
Leather shoes and no socks: There is a reason that Miami Vice was cancelled. Socks were made for a reason, and the reason was not to stuff down your pants to make you more DOM than you already are. But if you plan to wear white socks with leather shoes, then just put the socks back into your pants.
Any shirt that reveals the outline of your nipples: Next to sagging man-breasts, exposed male nipples can cause permanent psychological scarring. The only nipples we should be forced to look at in public without embarrassment are the ones at the ends of baby bottles.
Gold jewelry: Gold necklace. Gold bracelet. Gold belt clip. Gold pinkie ring. Gold tongue stud. Gold bolitas. What are you, really? A DOM or a gangsta? And do you really want everyone to know that you discovered the Yamashita treasure? Why don’t you put all that gold to good use by having it smelted and returned to your teeth?
Clutch bag: A man should never have his own bag, unless he wears it over his head. If he cannot stuff whatever he needs into his pockets, then there is something sinister afoot. Whether it be Louis Vuitton or Luis Bito-on (available at illegal sidewalk stands everywhere) the clutch bag is the Pandora’s Box of DOM-hood. In fact, you have to have undergone a six-month practicum in DOM-ship to start carrying a clutch bag. Is he hiding a spare peluka, a gold nipple ring, or maybe even  gasp!  a mini-DOM inside? Who knows what gayumas, Swedish pumps, packets of Lee MF Rhino Herbal Tea (Siguradong uulit ka pa!) and bottles of pilfered Viagra lurk within?
Most DOMs merely dismiss the radioactive effects of these fashion atrocities. But little do they realize the unexpected consequences of subscribing to the theory of runaway sexual selection. Did they even know that most of the male birds that have survived through runaway sexual selection do not have a penis? These birds mate via a "cloacal" kiss, which involves the male and female genital openings touching briefly to transfer the sperm. (And you thought you were insecure with what you have.)
So, the next time you see a seasoned DOM with a large bulge in his pleated pants, then there is no need to worry, my three female readers, because that is probably just a pair of socks. But make sure to steer clear from them kisses.
Next column: Fashion forewarned, because your jeans are not your genes.
For comments, suggestions or if you want a kiss sabay hug, please e-mail ledesma.rj@gmail.com.
But before I plunge into self-incrimination, I would like to thank my three female readers for all the advice they’ve shared with me regarding my impending nuptials: Don’t give up on each other. Don’t run home crying to your mom after your first big fight. And don’t let your yaya join you on your honeymoon night. Unfortunately, none of these women have offered to defray the cost of my engagement ring (that’s it, no more free plugging for any of you). And of course, I would like to thank my wonderful fiancée (who regularly checks this column to make sure that I am not flirting with anybody) for letting me keep my books The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pick-Up Artists, Never Satisfied: How & Why Men Cheat and The Art of Seduction, but purely for vicarious reasons.
In fact, she has already placed me on a strict pre-husband training regimen. Since my last column, I have learned that there is no shame in carrying her 50-pound sunflower handbag while window-shopping in the mall or in lining up at the "10 items or less" lane to buy her a pack of sanitary napkins or even getting a Brazilian wax so I can understand the pain that goes into wearing a two-piece swimsuit. I understand that these acts are the first signs of emasculation, which is perfectly normal according to my dad (who incidentally is very good now at color-coordinating my mom’s handbags with her shoes).
Speaking of color coordination, let us talk about a topic that has received as much attention among men as a yearly prostate exam: men’s fashion.
According to the book How To Succeed With Women (an actual 500-page book co-written by a person who consequently penned the book Sexpectations), men usually suffer from the "hoop dreams" syndrome when it comes to scoring with the ladies. Like basketball, men should only be allowed to date women in specific leagues based on a rigorous set of criteria. These criteria include the man’s ability to:
• Maintain a conversation beyond three minutes.
• Earn six figures after taxes.
• Look like Brad Pitt.
If men don’t play in their respective leagues, they will run the risk of financial ruin, public humiliation and permanent groin injury. Unfortunately, most men dream of dating women who belong to the NBA when they can’t even get any playtime in their barangay basketball league.
I have heard of men like these: they are in their mid-30s (in both their age and their waistlines), they think good hygiene is an urban myth, and the only women they have been intimate with are on paper, video or molded in plastic. These very eligible NGSBs (no girlfriend since birth), who have managed to elude stalker charges, are very precise as to the type of women they covet.
Personality: A great sense of style, young, intelligent, mature, outgoing, conservative, and sexually liberated. And can act like a snooty little b%^%$ in 12-inch high heels when he parades her in public. High school diploma optional.
Health and well-being: These women take care of their Coke-bottle figures by eating shoots and leaves, submerge themselves in whitening solution twice a day, and consider silicone enhancement as a fitness regimen. Preferably above the age of consent.
If women like these exist, tell them to quickly change their names and, for the love of God, please flee the country before the NGSBs at Immigration stop them. But hopefully, if these men had any sense of propriety, shame or clean underwear, they would ask themselves, "If I were to have a woman like that, what type of man should I be?" For all the NGSBs out there, please encircle below if you are any one of these men:
1. Buddha
2. Hugh Hefner
3. Piolo Pascual
Because if you are any of these men, then you really have no more need for any more women (take that to mean whatever you want). However, if you are more hopeful than a KBL senatorial bet, then you might have a fighting chance to date women who can solve third world hunger.
Especially if you are a peacock.
According to Robert Winston, a professor of fertility studies at the University of London, females prefer certain physical traits in a male, and the more pronounced these traits are, the more attractive the man will appear to the woman. But strangely enough, these male physical traits may not have any practical value, such as bushy eyebrows, nipple hair, or overly developed man-breasts.
In nature, the classic example of an impractical male trait is  no, no, no, not the human brain, but something close enough. It is the peacock’s tail. Peacocks arrogantly strut, grab their crotches and arrogantly flash their iridescent feathered plumage in front of peahens’ faces. And often this display is enough to cause most peahens to spontaneously lay eggs.
But despite its attractiveness, the peacock’s tail is an enormous burden. When the peacock is under attack, it has to tuck its tail away in its peacock clutch bag so it doesn’t get wrinkled. Having such a tail is like wearing a barong tagalog (the see-through one and you don’t wear a sando underneath) then engaging in a fistfight with Manny Pacquiao and not expecting any blood spatter on the barong. Hell, even I would want to beat you into bopis if you wore a see-through barong without a sando underneath.
So why do females prefer male physical traits that are pointlessly elaborate and thoroughly disturbing, similar to the production numbers in Sunday variety shows? The late biologist Sir Ronald Fisher described this phenomenon as "runaway sexual selection"  a vicious circle where animals build up magnificent mate-attracting traits, which, at the same time, may also be a handicap to survival.
So does this mean, my once-fellow NGSBs, that you will attract these silicone-augmented women by donning a Chiquita banana headdress, a feather boa, fishnet stockings, patent platform boots and large pink feathers that stick out from your bottom? Remember, what works in the animal world does not necessarily apply in the human world. Unfortunately, there are some men who have taken the "runaway sexual selection" theory too literally. And these men are the DOMs (Dirty Old Men).
You must understand, a peacock’s tail is also meant to show off their status or to frighten away enemies. And this is often the case when it comes to DOM fashion. Their fashion sense has frightened away younger DOMs, small children and even evil spirits. But their fashion sense is also a handicap that prevents them from reproducing. In fact, when women have bangungot, they dream of DOMs.
I was hoping to reveal the persons responsible for DOM fashion, but many of them are either incumbent or running for reelection. This is the reason why DOM fashion was not included in the Anti-Terrorism Law. Thus, if you have any compassion left for the sleepless women across this country, we appeal to the DOMs who are reading this to please avoid these fashion tragedies:
Pelukas that can withstand gunfire, nuclear explosions and government propaganda: I have seen toupees on DOMs that were harder than OFWs who haven’t seen their wives in 10 years. Those toupees are so indestructible that they will survive the next ice age. I say have mercy on your scalps and set them free.
Short-sleeved shirts that are unbuttoned all the way down to the chest: There are many things that are best kept under national security. The winner of the last presidential elections. The results of the Melo Commission. And your man cleavage. DOMs, your bodies are best left exposed only when filled with formaldehyde.
Leather shoes and no socks: There is a reason that Miami Vice was cancelled. Socks were made for a reason, and the reason was not to stuff down your pants to make you more DOM than you already are. But if you plan to wear white socks with leather shoes, then just put the socks back into your pants.
Any shirt that reveals the outline of your nipples: Next to sagging man-breasts, exposed male nipples can cause permanent psychological scarring. The only nipples we should be forced to look at in public without embarrassment are the ones at the ends of baby bottles.
Gold jewelry: Gold necklace. Gold bracelet. Gold belt clip. Gold pinkie ring. Gold tongue stud. Gold bolitas. What are you, really? A DOM or a gangsta? And do you really want everyone to know that you discovered the Yamashita treasure? Why don’t you put all that gold to good use by having it smelted and returned to your teeth?
Clutch bag: A man should never have his own bag, unless he wears it over his head. If he cannot stuff whatever he needs into his pockets, then there is something sinister afoot. Whether it be Louis Vuitton or Luis Bito-on (available at illegal sidewalk stands everywhere) the clutch bag is the Pandora’s Box of DOM-hood. In fact, you have to have undergone a six-month practicum in DOM-ship to start carrying a clutch bag. Is he hiding a spare peluka, a gold nipple ring, or maybe even  gasp!  a mini-DOM inside? Who knows what gayumas, Swedish pumps, packets of Lee MF Rhino Herbal Tea (Siguradong uulit ka pa!) and bottles of pilfered Viagra lurk within?
Most DOMs merely dismiss the radioactive effects of these fashion atrocities. But little do they realize the unexpected consequences of subscribing to the theory of runaway sexual selection. Did they even know that most of the male birds that have survived through runaway sexual selection do not have a penis? These birds mate via a "cloacal" kiss, which involves the male and female genital openings touching briefly to transfer the sperm. (And you thought you were insecure with what you have.)
So, the next time you see a seasoned DOM with a large bulge in his pleated pants, then there is no need to worry, my three female readers, because that is probably just a pair of socks. But make sure to steer clear from them kisses.
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