What what whaaaat is a ‘himbo’, you might ask? Why, it’s the male version of a ‘bimbo’! You know, a hot guy with nothing going on mentally. Basically the male version of a Barbie. A Ken, if you will. A super good-looking guy, typically with a stupidly sexy body, with approximately nothing going on inside his headbrain. The example that Urbandictionary.com gives is Kevin Federline…presumably from before he went to ChubTown.
But that’s the thing about himbos! Their power must not be underestimated! That particular K-Fed himbo wormed his way into Britney Spears‘ life! For long enough to marry her and have two kids with her. And Britney was still pretty hot shit at the time, so that’s a significant case of ‘himbo haze’. Which is a term I just made up to describe the delirious affects that dating a himbo can have on a regular human.
The article in The Daily Beast was talking about celebrity himbos — guys who aren’t necessarily dumb, but who made some ‘off’ movie choices and have now faded into obscurity. The guys they referenced were Taylor Kitsch, Ryan Phillippe, James Marsden, Josh Hartnett, and Freddie Prinze Jr., but Freddie Prinze was the light of my life growing up, so it hurts the precious to see his name slandered like that. I’d rather focus on the real-life himbos who surround us in real life, whom were are so woefully unprepared to deal with.
Let me start out by saying, unless you yourself are a bimbo (and if you are, more power to you), then himbos are not for dating. Himbos are for one night stands. Repeat that back to me: himbos are for one night stands. They are not for you to attempt to date. They may be tirelessly devoted like small himbo puppies, attempting to please you, but don’t be fooled. At the end of the day, the himbo doesn’t want to go to your apartment and discuss your shared life plans over a glass of wine. He wants to go home, get high, play some video games, and end the day with a workout and a nice healthy staring contest between his eyes and his abs in the mirror.
So how do you avoid getting sucked in by a himbo? Having recently emerged from a himbology experiment myself, I am qualified to speak authoritatively on the subject. The trick to unmasking the North American Himbo is luring him into conversation early, so you can discover his un-enticing lack of intellect before the himbo haze caused by his ridiculous body descends before your eyes and turns you into a nodding, smiling, compromising version of yourself. The problem is, many himbos are (just barely) too smart for this. They stay silent and seemingly mysterious until you’ve had one too many drinks and suddenly you’re waking up at your apartment and he’s there too.
And himbos are like vampires — once you invite one into your home, it’s over. He’s in. You make excuses for the interior of his brain because you enjoy the exterior of his body too much. After he makes a comment about not knowing who Mitt Romney is, you think, “Oh he made a joke! He can’t be a himbo because he made a funny joke!” No he didn’t. He made a statement and it was so stupid that it sounded like a joke. He made himself a joke! Stay with me, Alexis! Don’t follow the light!
But by then it’s usually too late. You are in the himbo’s clutches, and you will stay there until the haze wears off. And unfortunately there’s really no knowing when that will be. Sometimes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes years. Then one day you wake up and say…I am an intelligent, attractive, interesting woman. I deserve someone who knows how to spell my last name.
And the himbo will sadly slump up and out of bed, over to the gym, and swiftly into the life of the next unsuspecting female. And I’ll go back to being sexily single. Aka blogging away in his old college t-shirt and my underoos cackling into my breakfast ice cream.
See, himbos! See what you’ve lost and weep!
Sigh. I wish there was more ‘winning’ in adulthood.
*Absolutely zero details in this post have been changed to protect the identities of those involved. But spoiler alert: I didn’t date Taylor Kitsch.