The mysterious sex appeal of Nigel Farage

I remember sitting on the bus a few weeks into #MeToo and thinking all the men looked disengaged – buried in their phones or listlessly looking out the window. I imagined them thinking it just wasn’t worth it to look up lest they be accused of making unwanted advances. These days, I spend fewer mornings worrying about the fate of the red-blooded male. Nonetheless, it’s not rocket science to suppose that for a significant swathe of men – those who fear being publicly shamed or sacked – it really isn’t worth showing their appreciation of women. 

Nor is it surprising that with the decline of male lustiness comes the dimming of men’s better traits, those that were not creepy or sad but fun and spice-of-lifey: that winning audacity thickened with masculine charm.