It’s Sunday night, you’re single af, and you are stuck in the gym this Valentine’s. To make yourself feel better, you resort to posting on Instagram, showing off those mean biceps with the caption #healthyliving. But in reality, it was never about living healthy. That’s just a bonus in this new age where being desired—no, lusted after is your own true motive. This is the age when you wake up to the smell of your own sex drive, where your body is a banquet to be feasted upon by girls and “girls” alike.
This is the age of the spornosexual, where having a body to die for is what makes you live
Editors Note: The original article can be found on the fifth issue of The Benildean, available in all three campuses of Benilde until supplies last.
Spornosexuality—a play on the words “sport” and “porn”—was coined last 2014 by Mark Simpson, a journalist who writes on topics dealing with pop culture and masculinity. He noticed the development of this “sporno” culture in high fashion magazines back in 2006, where there seemed to be a bigger focus on male hypersexualization than on other factors. Describing the new wave as “sport got into bed with porn while Mr. Armani took pictures,” it diminished the importance of a high sense of style, focusing instead on what a man should look like at his most virile. Unlike bodybuilders, who develop muscles to their highest peak, spornosexuals focus on being lean and mean: to look ripped without being overly large, the perfect athlete’s body with the sex appeal of a pornstar. Social media is the spornosexual’s biggest weapon, with guaranteed legions of worshippers—if you meet the standards.
Social media is the spornosexual’s biggest weapon, with guaranteed legions of worshippers—if you meet the standards.
Spornosexuality credits its presence to its predecessor, the “metrosexual.” Predicted back in 1994 by the same Simpson, a metrosexual man is “a young man with money to spend, living in or within easy reach of a metropolis — because that’s where all the best shops, clubs, gyms and hairdressers are.” In 2002, Simpson crowned (or in his own terms, outed) David Beckham, a football player known for his devilishly handsome looks more than his skills, its icon. This resulted in an explosion of a culture obsessed with designer clothes and slick hairstyles, expensive perfumes and fashion trends. While metrosexuality focused on looking great and stylish, spornosexuality is a more body and sex-obsessed version: their bodies are their most painstakingly sculpted temples. Both however, rise from the very same drive that Simpson accurately predicted: the male desire to be desired
Everyone has at least one Facebook friend that has made a shirtless selfie, yet some people act like male vanity is the end of the world.
Spornosexuality deals with almost the same issues metrosexuality did in its inception. Is male narcissism a good or bad thing? Are looks more important than intellect? These questions are asked to challenge the superficiality of the movement. Yet as people try to break down this unrealistic idealization, many others continue to subscribe to it. A simple hashtag search can lead to millions of images, with hundreds to thousands of likes and comments. Everyone has at least one Facebook friend that has made a shirtless selfie, yet some people act like male vanity is the end of the world.
There is nothing wrong with abolishing unrealistic standards and reminding others that true beauty lies in one’s intellect and personality. Metrosexuality, and now spornosexuality, however, are cultural waves that can cause harm only you yourself let it. You can choose to subscribe to it, or you can choose not to. You can preach about loving others unconditionally, or you can swipe that next picture on Tinder. You can show off your ripped muscles, or dress like a parish priest. It really doesn’t matter, because no one’s forcing you to be like Brad Pitt when you can only be yourself.
But you gotta admit—if you had a body like Brad Pitt, you would show if off, wouldn’t you?
Photo by Yves Publico
Styled by Neal Corpus
Model: David Licauco