There is a delicious, if somewhat tragic, irony in watching the collapse of modern masculinity. For centuries, the patriarchy has prided itself on a stoic, stiff-upper-lip resolve—a refusal to complain, to emote, or to acknowledge physical frailty until the moment of cardiac arrest. But leave it to the invisible hand of late-stage capitalism to find a crack in that marble facade. It turns out that the self-proclaimed “Alpha Males” of the digital age are not the warriors of antiquity they pretend to be. They are, in fact, neurotic Victorian invalids, obsessing over their vapors and vitality, convinced they are withering away because a man with a ring light and a dropshipping business told them so.

According to a study published in the journal Social Science and Medicine, the internet is currently flooded with “Manosphere” influencers who have managed to monetize the deepest insecurities of healthy young men. The scam is breathtaking in its simplicity and surgical in its cruelty. These influencers, who often resemble oversized toddlers trapped in the bodies of action figures, are aggressively marketing testosterone tests to twenty-somethings who have absolutely no medical need for them. They have convinced a generation of perfectly healthy men that they are fundamentally broken, and that the only cure is to purchase a testing kit via the link in the bio.

The specific metrics for this self-diagnosed malaise are as hilarious as they are scientifically dubious. One particular sage of the platform TikTok, boasting over 100,000 acolytes, warns his viewers that the absence of a morning erection is a harbinger of hormonal doom. “If you’re not waking up in the morning with a boner,” he intones with the gravity of a doctor delivering a terminal diagnosis, “there’s a large possibility that you have low testosterone levels.” It is a sentence that would make a urologist weep, but to the anxious, algorithm-addled brain of a modern young man, it is gospel. The natural fluctuations of the human body are no longer biology; they are failures of character.

What we are witnessing is the “medicalization of masculinity,” a phrase coined by the researchers that sounds clinically detached but barely covers the absurdity of the situation. For decades, the beauty and wellness industries have preyed upon women, pathologizing normal aging, normal weight, and normal skin texture to sell creams and surgeries. Now, in a twist of gender equality that nobody asked for, the market has realized that men’s insecurities are an untapped goldmine. The “Real Man” is no longer defined by his actions or his character, but by his blood chemistry. If your levels aren't optimized to the point of cardiac risk, are you even a man? Or are you just a beta male failing to maximize your shareholder value?

The brilliance of this grift lies in its exploitation of the “wellness” label. These influencers frame their sales pitch not as vanity, but as health. They are not selling steroids (at least, not openly); they are selling “optimization.” They are convincing young men that feeling tired, occasionally lacking libido, or simply existing as a human being rather than a biological machine are symptoms of a disease. And, conveniently, the influencer is the only one with the cure. It is the classic snake oil tactic, updated for the era of high-speed internet and low-attention spans.

There is a profound sadness beneath the satire, of course. We have created a society so devoid of meaning, so stripped of community and purpose, that young men are looking for salvation in a hormone panel. They are desperate to be told what a “real man” is, and because we have dismantled all the old archetypes without providing new ones, they have turned to the loudest voices in the room. And the loudest voices belong to grifters who tell them that masculinity is a subscription service.

The “Manosphere” pretends to be a counter-culture, a rebellion against a softening world. But in reality, it is the ultimate expression of consumer conformity. These men are not rebels; they are the perfect customers. They are docile sheep in wolves' clothing, lining up to be shorn, terrified that their testosterone numbers might reveal them to be ordinary. They criticize the “matrix” while actively plugging themselves into it, paying for the privilege of being told they are inadequate. It is a theater of the absurd where the actors don’t realize they are the punchline. The only thing truly rising in this scenario is the profit margin of the wellness companies. As for the young men? They are left poorer, more anxious, and presumably, still doom-scrolling in bed, waiting for a biological sign that they are allowed to exist.