The glorious age of man flab

The fat roll replaces the six pack.

Our men are carrying an extra 10—hell, maybe 15—pounds in the midriff, haven’t even thought about the gym in months, and they are unashamed. Why should they be? The Hollywood box-office draws have stopped looking like the lithe and graceful Orlando Blooms of the world, delicate and emotive and who might possibly weigh less than an average female fan, and instead now look like guys you can recognize as being from the same planet you inhabit, who eat, drink, and smoke what they want, pack on the pounds and still get to regularly bed skinny actresses who can’t remember what carbs taste like. What’s more, the women don’t mind a bit—in fact, some prefer it.

“You don’t want a guy who’s too skinny,” said a young, sporty blonde named Adrienne Rochetti, who lives in the West Village and considers Vince Vaughn a hottie. “If a guy is skinnier than you, then you’re the one that has to go to the gym.”