In less than seven days, I’ve managed to witness on two separate occasions, two separate “Nice Guys” stating openly in person what I’ve only ever seen them too coy to state explicitly online; that sub-cultures (particularly gaming and science fiction in this case) are refuges from the world, especially for men, and in particular from women and/or feminists. This is, to put it plainly, pathetic.
‘Gatorboi
Last week, while preparing to upgrade someone’s computer, I lost my shit with a possible InCel/definite Gamergator. If this was a care situation, or a campaigning context, it’d be unprofessional. In reality, it was after hours and I was still dieting before my upcoming operation, so having some guy I don’t know trying to impress me with his take on Anita Sarkeesian, and with his thoughts on Internet subcultures was the last straw.
This was my time off and as it was I was spending it trying to help someone else to begin with. I’m going to cut myself some slack here.
“Anita Sarkeesian is sooo corrupt. Have you heard about her husband? She’s taken so much money! And all those balding middle aged beta male feminists who are white-knighting to get feminist pussy. [Insert pouty sulk].” – I paraphrase, but the sulkiness is pretty much spot on.
Why the fuck am I supposed to be impressed by or able to empathize with this shit?
I know the conspiracy theories are just that. I don’t care about her husband. I’m a balding middle aged man who’s been feminist-supporting for a long time, and while neither you nor ‘Gatorboi are in a position to verify it, I know for myself that I haven’t used this as an angle to try and get laid. Trying to convince me otherwise is a worthless exercise.
While yes, I occasionally play a game (Solitaire, Bejewelled, Civilization, and a number of DOS games from time to time), I don’t bother to self-identify as a “gamer”. It’s not something I’d aspire to. The technology behind the games is far more interesting if you want a topic on which to expend any serious mental effort (e.g. considering the historical development of floating point performance, running through implementations such as various first person shooter engines before widening the scope to include the implications for non-gaming applications like protein folding modelling and CERN’s ATLAS software stack), but the gaming experience itself? Not so much.
Further, beyond the technology, if I was going to go to any great length considering my use of computer games above and beyond what’s required to waste time and unwind, I’d be more interested in cultural critique than in mounting a fevered defense of the virtue of some gaming franchise, or clique of Cheeto-gobblers. Brand loyalty isn’t worth the effort. I’m not a fanboi. Of anything.
If this excludes me from being a True Gamer, I don’t give a shit.
Before the rant about beta males, of course, there was an implication by ‘Gatorboi that the influx of outsiders was destroying sub-cultures – a point ‘Gator wrongly extrapolated from my own point about social media, smart phones and a sudden influx of people unfamiliar with the concept of netiquette – which obviously he refined to the point of singling out feminists and non-compliant women in general. Quite a long bow to draw, that. It was in this context that he framed sub-culture as his special refuge, and outsiders as trespassers.
Why on earth would anyone want to be stuck as this guy’s babysitter, patting him on the head and telling him it’s alright? Wouldn’t “gamers” rather game? And what’s he hiding from? Culture’s going to be subject to critique. Get over it. Critics don’t need your permission.
Afraid of the specter of gnashing vaginas, and want a Daddy figure to hold your hand? Please try therapy instead.
Maybe, just maybe, instead of whining about beta males trying to get some – a pretty obvious example of projection that, incidentally – how about considering whether or not they’re being put off of being your Bronie because of your suppurating self-pity.
Fake Numbers
So yeah, another day another whiny man. I don’t know how women put up with this shit. Where do they get the energy?
“Women keep giving me fake numbers!”
No shit.
“It’s like they look at me and see “Loser”.”
That’s clearly how you see yourself. But go right ahead and blame women who haven’t done anything wrong. What are women for, if not to make you feel better about yourself? Just look at your mother – she’s a woman ergo. These ones not giving you there number must just be broken.
“That’s why I like science fiction. It takes you away from the cruelty of mankind. Or in this case, womankind.”
The cruelest thing here is a Fake Number Guy’s sense of entitlement. Even if you strip away the implied threat, and the whiff of angry resentment, you’re still left with behaviour better suited to an Amway salesperson/cultist.
Learn some boundaries guys. Learn the social cues. It’s a part of maturing. She doesn’t want to give you her phone number and she doesn’t want you pestering her by asking for it in the first place.
Some of us learn it later than others – too late – but if you’re past 40 and you’re still not getting it, then… fark. People can reasonably and fairly write you off.
That aggrieved sense of entitlement. That sulking self-pity. You do realize that it permeates your behaviour in general, right? It’s not just the asking for the number. Even your ums, ahs and agitated twitches at the slightest hint of frustration tip people off. People get an off feeling around you because… well, you are off.
In the first instance it makes you a wet blanket. A real party pooper. Even if you don’t squeal “whaaaa”, people can still hear it. It wafts off you like bad cologne. You’re killing the mood like a shit in a punchbowl and that’s before you’ve started badgering women for things you’re not entitled to.
It’s also something pathological you have in common with stalkers, spousal abusers and date rapists, so it’s unreasonable to expect that complete strangers are going to welcome you with open arms and just give you the very means to pester them on an ongoing basis.
Women don’t exist to alleviate your poor self esteem. Generally speaking, science fiction communities don’t exist to alleviate your poor self esteem either, even when marketing departments tell you otherwise. Science fiction communities exist for people who are interested in – surprise! – science fiction, for the purpose of – hold on to your hats – science fiction. Odd that.
The people you need to see about self esteem are called therapists. Again, please try therapy.
“Aww. Therapy? But then the guys will think less of me. Only beta cucks go in for therapy.”
The opinions of guys who think like this aren’t worth respecting. Guys like this are why deep down you think of yourself as a “beta”, subsequently feeling a need to make every other guy the “beta” just so you can feel a little better about yourself. Thing is, if you think “beta males” actually exist in Homo sapiens, you’re a sucker – The Guys have played you for a fool.
Tip: Make like The Guy’s wives and ditch them.
(Yeah, the thought of breaking off makes you feel fear, doesn’t it? You worry about angering your “alphas”. Maybe they’ll yell at you. Maybe worse!)
No. You’re not a nice guy. You’re an asshole, lickspittle servant to bigger assholes, and probably a coward, too. The good news is that unless you’re a psychopath, you can always stop if you choose.
I still don’t get it
Science fiction communities being for science fiction, gamer identity not being worthwhile, certainly not to the point of getting angry at perfectly anodyne critique, and aggrieved, self-pitying entitlement being a buzzkill: Mad, I know.
But there you have it. Clearly I don’t have a clue. It’s that blue pill I guess.
All the same, clueless or not, I still don’t want to be around this bullshit, much less coddle the grown men who indulge in it. Save for ulterior motives subject to cost-benefit analysis, I don’t understand why anyone would.
~ Bruce
Circling The Abyss 