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The intellectual Man-Child, a species all too familiar to those who work in publishing, study the humanities, or frequent literary panels and their (often more taxing) after parties, is that "nice guy from your grad-school program who tries to cover up his hurt feelings by concocting a general theory that explains why he never got a text after his one-night stand."
(For comparison purposes, Wikipedia defines the average Man Child as “a person that is physically an adult, but mentally/emotionally immature.” Think Chris Brown, perhaps, or any number of chest-thumping, collar-popping bros who prowl the streets of South Boston on Saturday nights in search of their latest conquests. They might challenge you to jacknife a can of Bud Light and refer to breasts as “cans,” but they probably won’t challenge your opinions about Proust/Kant/feminism/etc.)
Boston is a city steeped in academia, making it the perfect environment in which to harbor said intellectual Man-Children. If you’re hoping to snag one of your own, consider searching in Cambridge on a Saturday night, where they can be found in a number of bars and lounges. Just look for the purposefully disheveled guys named Biff who throw temper tantrums at the prospect of having to wait in line for a drink (speaking from experience, here). Or, simply refer to this classic scene from Good Will Hunting, which features the original intellectual Man-Child.
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