“all who are male slices pursue the males . . . . it is not out of shamelessness that they do this but out of boldness, manliness, and masculinity, feeling affection for what is like to themselves. . . . When they are fully grown men, they . . . naturally pay no attention to marriage and procreation, but are compelled to do so by the law; whereas they would be content to live unmarried with one another.”—Plato, The Symposium (191E-192B)
Of all the sad specimens I meet in this broken and burning world, few evoke more spontaneous sympathy than those heterosexual folk who are, it seems, prisoners of their own sexuality. I’m talking about the straight women who clearly can’t stand men. And I’m talking about the heterosexual guys who really, in their heart of hearts, don’t like the company of women. Some of these guys are downright misogynists. But in my experience most aren’t. Women are simply a mystery to them, a mystery they’re not interested in solving. Gender is for them a kind of tall garden wall, a barrier made of solid stone, which keeps them from seeing women as people. These guys are happiest when they’re hanging out with “the guys”.
Wouldn’t they be happier if they could get a little man-on-man action at the end of the night? I think so. Incidentally, I’ve yet to meet a gay man who hates men. And I’ve never even heard of a lesbian who hates women (with the possible exception of Camille Paglia). Regardless, it’s now common to speak of gender dysphoria (e.g., being a woman trapped in a man’s body). But perhaps we need to start talking about an equally tragic condition: sexuality dysphoria (e.g., being a heterosexual douche who simultaneously desires women and can’t stand them, the kind of guy who wants women but can’t seem to relate to them as human beings).
—John Faithful Hamer, The Myth of the Fuckbuddy (2016)