The Zipper Class: When Men in Power Can’t Keep It in Their Pants

There’s a particular kind of man who always ends up in charge.

He looks excellent on paper.

Articulate. Educated.

Brushed in just enough polish to be lauded as “elite.”

He posts about leadership. Legacy. Late-stage capitalism. Philanthropy.

He shares quotes about humility.

He sometimes weeps at Davos.

And still, he is a grown adult with the impulse control of a feral teenager and the moral compass of a half-charged Roomba.

We know this man.

He is everywhere.

And it’s time to call him what he is:

A member of The Zipper Class.

Men who cannot, and will not, keep it in their pants.

Not because of lust.

Not even because of love.

But because for them, power only feels real when it is performed, preferably at the expense of someone more vulnerable.

They are not anomalies. They are architects.

Let me show you.

There’s the so-called activist investor who makes the rounds on MSNBC, touting antitrust reform and moral leadership, then torches his marriage for a sugar baby at Burning Man. (Revolutionary, really, burning down your personal life for the aesthetic.)

There’s the tech CEO who bought a multi-million dollar house with his in-laws’ money, hired a nanny on their dime, then began sleeping with her. No prenup. Just premium-grade entitlement with built-in childcare.

There’s the fintech “feminist” who tells every new conquest his marriage is open, that his wife is into ENM. She’s not. She just hoped that outsourcing certain sex acts to professionals would buy her some peace.

There’s the local firm president who schedules “strategy meetings” near Logan Airport because that’s where his favorite massage parlor is. Every arrival gets a handshake. And a happy ending.

There’s the CEO who left his wife and children mid-vacation, not to handle a crisis, but to intercept a box of sex toys and sneak them to his second home for a solo soirée, or perhaps a dalliance with the young sweet thing from his private club. Thankfully, the box made it. Sadly, his dignity did not.

There’s the fifty-something “gaming visionary” still lurking on Seeking Arrangements, shopping for 20-somethings with his Amex Black. He never became a lawyer, but he did earn a JD in delusion, with a minor in emotional stuntedness.

These are not jokes. They’re actual men in power from my own rolodex.

Branded as thought leaders.

Invited to keynotes.

Revered by panels.

Trusted by investors.

And behind the scenes?

They are not building empires.

They are throwing tantrums.

They are playing emotional dodgeball with their wives, assistants, "Chiefs of Stuff," side pieces, pick me girls, therapists, and PR reps.

They are hiring women not to collaborate, but to calibrate their egos.

They are orchestrating workplaces around their dysfunction, and calling it strategy.

The real tragedy isn’t that they cheat.

It’s that they’re so utterly predictable.

They lie because they are afraid.

They control because they are weak.

They surround themselves with loyalists, not to lead, but to be flattered.

And they weaponize the idea of “feminine energy” to justify infantilizing every woman who dares to challenge them.

Because here’s what happens when a woman who sees clearly walks into the room:

She does not giggle at the CEO’s jokes.

She does not fawn.

She does not feign.

She’s not there to pander, but to ponder.

To contribute.

To challenge.

To disrupt the fragile ecosystem of mutual denial.

And that? That is the real offense.

Because The Zipper Class cannot tolerate women who are emotionally self-regulated, intellectually unimpressed, and psychologically sovereign.

So she must be dealt with.

She is triangulated.

Scapegoated.

“Not a culture fit.”

Too “intense.”

Relegated to support staff, even if she’s the one with the vision, work ethic, and an IQ not just points but several standard deviations above the smartest guy in the room.

Meanwhile, the men beneath and around him learn what power really looks like in this house of mirrors:

• Never ask questions, just play along.

• Always compliment the emperor’s new Patagonia vest.

• And remember: silence is rewarded.

Especially in HR.

Especially on the board.

Especially in the executive suite where the real job isn’t leading; it’s laundering reputations.

Let’s stop pretending this is about sex.

This is about infrastructure.

About the systems that reward proximity over principle.

About the rot that spreads when power is unearned and ethics are optional.

It is about men who build companies that look impressive on the outside, but inside? It’s just a high-end cuddle puddle with a cap table.

And the impact?

• Talent lost.

• Innovation stifled.

• Women exiled.

• Truth degraded.

Every time a man in power trades leadership for libido management, we lose something sacred.

And here’s the part they still don’t get:

It’s not just morally and ethically bankrupt.

It’s boring.

These men are not rebels.

They are the same insecure archetypes we’ve seen since junior high, only now with trust funds or venture funding, burner phones, and sh*tty branding.

The next time a man calls himself a visionary, ask the people he paid off to stay quiet.

You’ll find the truth isn’t on his résumé; it’s buried in NDAs, burner phones, and ruined careers.