Why do men ‘like’ Instagram models’ pictures?

Why are so many of us so thirsty?

“Why do men ‘like’ Instagram models’ pictures? What’s the point?” My partner asks me this whenever I complain that my Explore page is filled with women posting thirst traps as breadcrumbs for their OnlyFans accounts. No judgement, by the way—sex work is work. I just wish the algorithm would more accurately feed me what I more often want: content about therapy, radical politics, comedy, and cooking beans (yes, I’m obsessed).

Sometimes though, I do want to see attractive women, I tell her. When she’s out with friends at night and I’m alone. When I’m bored in my office. When I’m stressed and need an escape. Sometimes, I even ‘like’ those thirst traps, but I’m not sure why. What it feels like is a drooling teenage boy inside of me taking over my thumb and making me tap the heart icon. Like Pepé Le Pew, the animated skunk from those 1950s cartoons. As simple as, I want that.

But I think digging a little deeper might shed light on one of this era’s many crises: widespread misogyny on social media that fuels violence against women in real life.

There are two times when my inner teenage boy moved past ‘liking’ posts and scared me a little. I’m embarrassed of both. Yet they’re a glimpse of what it must feel like to harass someone online. The aggression. The desperation. The righteousness.

My Explore page on a recent afternoon.

The first was a few years ago with a therapist who I had a little online crush on. She was attractive and had leftist politics I’d usually agreed with. We’d both followed each other for a while and occasionally fire emoji-ed each other’s stories. I’d felt like we knew each other, in that parasocial sort of way that’s endemic to social media. “Parasocial is more than being obsessed; it is almost being convinced that this person knows you as you know them,” said a senior editor of Cambridge English Dictionary, which named “parasocial” last year’s Word of the Year.

One day she posted a story with an image of a tweet critiquing the idea that there’s a male loneliness epidemic. I DMed that I disagreed with the wording of the tweet and was curious about her reasoning for posting it. I tried to be kind and curious, using exclamation points (“Hey!...). But to my surprise she responded that I’d been “rude,” especially since we’d “had zero interaction before.” After some back and forth, during which I apologized, she blocked me.

It’s probably hard for you to really understand what happened. I’m keeping it light on details to not reveal anything about her. But what I’m trying to get across is how delusional I was! I DMed her in a way that seemed, to me, kind, curious, and relational. I somehow felt close enough to disagree with her and ask her to share more. I truly thought she’d take time out of her busy day to answer me and even maybe enjoy doing so. I was astonished when she didn’t want to, and even a little hurt when she called me “rude.” A version of her existed in my head based on her posts and the few times we liked each other’s content. A version I thought I was close enough with to start a debate with.

The second time is even more embarrassing. It was during the pandemic with a poet I found alluringly hot and smart. She posted a poem with a line speculating what it would be like to “have a dick.” I responded, late on a Friday night, having never interacted with her before, “You have no idea what it’s like to have a dick.” She responded, “Don’t I?” I didn’t write anything back, out of shame.

Reading it now, I clearly was feeling some kind of way and wanted to start something. I think it’s that parasocial thing again. I’d ‘liked’ a few of her posts before, and somehow that made me think she’d welcome some late-night provocative banter. I felt like I knew her well enough (and so then she knew me well enough) to poke her aggressively. Late on a Friday night, the pandemic, being single—I was probably really lonely. Looking back, clearly, I was angry too.

This is to all say that I can relate to other men who write thirsty, sometimes angry, even misogynistic comments on women’s social media posts. It’s not to say that women deserve it, should put up with it, or should see any of it as a bid for connection. I’m so fucking grateful that women have told me how it makes them feel when other men do it, and I’ve adjusted my behavior accordingly. (Kirstie Kimball’s recent super vulnerable post about how men have treated her after getting a double mastectomy to save her life is a must read.)

I’ve adjusted not only because I feel bad for what women have to experience, but also because, if there’s anything I’ve learned while writing this newsletter for the past three years, misogyny hurts men too. We’re taught by this patriarchal capitalist society to devalue women and anything “feminine.” So then we devalue the “feminine” aspects of ourselves: emotional expression, caring for others, nurturing relationships.

Which leaves us many of us often feeling disconnected, lonely, and thirsty. Which must be why so many men are willing to aggressively chase, be rude to, or hurt women. Throw in capitalism’s hyper-individualism, and we get a loneliness epidemic for everyone. Throw in rich and powerful people promoting hate and bigotry to further their interests, and we get the violent society we have.

In other words, instead of blaming women, men must better understand and blame the people and conditions causing us to feel disconnected, lonely, and thirsty in the first place.

I’d love to hear what you think in the comments (or email me: jeremy@mohler.coach)!

— Jeremy