Do you have to know who Ryan Lochte is to be a bro? If so we fail:
Bros can be schlubby or scrawny, to be sure. But physical prowess, particularly in sports, seems to be a major part of the construction and performance of bro-ishness. Does the putative bro play a team sport? (And is that sport lacrosse?) Is the party thought of as his team’s inspirational leader? Does the party somehow manage to juggle a sporting life and his salubrious appetite for alcohol? That bro ranks high on our jockishness index. Fist bump!
Dudeliness is one’s propensity to do bro things with other bros. You talk with your bros about bro things, and you conspire to do bro things with your bros. Dudeliness is a measure of homosociality, a fancy gender studies term for what folks often call bromances — very close, platonic friendships between people of the same sex. A particularly dudely bro is someone you usually think of as an intrinsic part of a larger pack of bros. (Would that be a murder of bros?)
We’re thinking less ascot-and-yacht preppy and more Abercrombie and Fitch preppy. The bro uniform isn’t Brooks Brothers, but the sons of guys who wear Brooks Brothers. A bro’s sartorial inclinations are conservatively casual. But in the event that a bro does suit up, it’s all Barney from How I Met Your Mother: a nice suit that doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard.) A lot of people suggested that bros gleefully wield their social privilege. (But privilege and preppiness doesn’t automatically equate with bro-dom; Carlton Banks, for instance, would be no one’s idea of a bro.)
We don’t use the stoner tag lightly; the racial politics of actual weed consumption are pretty complicated. Stoner-ish bros don’t necessarily get high, but they do have a surfer vibe, and probably a speaking voice that simultaneously expresses both relaxation and bewilderment. This isn’t to say that stoner-y bros aren’t smart; James Franco is by many accounts a really intelligent dude behind his stoner-bro veneer.