Girls, I have some bad news to report: All of our dreams have come true.

After years of wishing that men were - let's be frank - more like us, it's finally happening. The New York Times reported Sunday that America may be ``on the verge of a metrosexual moment,'' with metrosexuals being straight young men eager to embrace their feminine side. With his painted nails and braided hair, David Beckham, the English soccer star, is their poster boy. Metrosexuals get manicures, they browse in stores other than the Sharper Image and True Value, they exfoliate.

And now, in the ultimate act of recognition society can bestow, they're about to get their own Conde Nast shopping magazine and a show on Bravo, ``Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,'' in which a team of gay men transform a straight man from ``drab to fab.''

So what possibly could be bad about an eligible bachelor who knows the difference between Thermasilk and Kiehl's, you may be thinking. Doesn't it simply mean that Mars and Venus will finally share the same orbit? That we can bond over bad hair days and have long, satisfying discussions about ``Sex and the City''?

Yes, that would be nice. For about a minute. But think about it. First your beloved metrosexual is (sweetly) commiserating over the trauma inflicted by a botched brow wax or highlighting mistake, and the next thing you know, he's muscling in on your aesthetician and snagging your hairdresser's last Saturday morning appointment. At home, he finishes off your Bumble and Bumble seaweed conditioner, hogs the hair dryer and refuses to eat the pasta you made because he's not having carbs past 7 p.m.

And that's not even the worst of it. After reading his glossy new magazine and watching Bravo's make-over program, your newly metrosexualized man will turn his educated glance your way. In the past, women could pretty much count on the benign, if somewhat unsatisfying, ``Honey, you look beautiful,'' from a guy who didn't look up from the Sox game as she twirled around in her new halter-top dress. Now, Mr. Metrosexual will turn off the game - if he even watches it anymore - to take in your ensemble. ``I don't know if I'd do a pashmina even though it's supposed to be chilly out tonight,'' he'll say as he checks his French manicure. ``They're just so out now.'' Or you two will be on your way out to a casual dinner with friends and he'll notice your purse. ``Do you think that works with your outfit?'' he'll ask.

At which point, you'll say, ``No, it doesn't,'' and to thank him for saving you from a horrible fashion mistake, offer to let him borrow your new pair of stilettos. After he walks the 20 feet from the cab to the restaurant in your pointy-toed mules, maybe he'll go back to his side of the closet without a fight.