So, I don’t have rehearsal tonight. And while I have that ever expanding, never getting done list of just… all the shit that needs doing? Tonight isn’t an exception where we can expect that shit to get done. Tonight will likely be a Dog Park, Laundry, Normal Every Day Shit plus additional line work.
But I started today with my brain already against me. Contemplating the rough things. You see, if I were just dealing with past bullshit or present bullshit; the mental tricks to overcome would not be so lax. But you combine bullshit from across the ages and… it is harder to overcome. What do I mean?
Well, I grew up in an age where a person’s value was judged by statements like the following:
“You’re a loser, you can’t even get a girl to talk to you!”
“What a pathetic waste! Yet another dance with nobody to go with?!”
“Virgin prude!”
“Some comic book obsessed loser playing video games in his parents’ basement!”
“Weeaboo NEET losers barely count as people”
Etcetera. The 1980s and 1990s and 2000s era where the focus of a person’s value was based largely upon their social acceptability and how capable they were to capture and entertain the attention of their preferred partnering gender.
In short: Being the Curtis Armstrong archetype, the unattractive, undesirable, person whose appearance and behavior prevented positive social interaction. Then fast forward into the NOW? And we still get the “Loser playing video games in the basement” vibes but the whole bullshit has also been enhanced by a radical Gender War and “educated slander.” So along with “Loser who can’t get a woman” you hear
“ALPHA Bro, the only way to have social value is to be an ALPHA” (which is bullshit) but that is in direct contrast to the cultural push “All men should be treated like the enemy. Men should have to ask permission to speak!” (which is also bullshit). Not to mention the social pushes of :
“It’s not a Male Loneliness epidemic, it is a Male Acceptability epidemic. Since Men are no longer acceptable and we no longer tolerate the bar being on the floor; the men who can’t get dates are proving that they have always been the type who shouldn’t have access to women!” or
“This is the first time in the Patriarchy that men have actually had to earn women’s time and attention. And they are realizing that they can’t and so they’re upset about it!” or
“I’m glad we’re in a time where women are demanding that men be interesting, self sufficient, caring, and intelligent! I’m sorry, are you not able to get a date? THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT interesting, self sufficient, caring, or intelligent!! Work on yourself and maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find someone who will put up with you!“
Which… frankly? As ever, I indicate my own job and lived experiences as a way of saying “That narrative is bullshit all over, despite being the predominant and prevailing narrative of the age!” Because… only quality men are going on dates? EXCUSE ME?! Then my criminal docket must be truly a sign of the times! College educated liberal men who support women are floundering in this State; but the meth dealer who has been convicted of beating every girlfriend he’s ever had has zero trouble finding more women to manipulate and harm! So.... “ONLY” quality men are finding dating success???
But.. yeah. Another decade of the social expectation being A MAN, A QUALITY MAN WHO HAS WORTH AND VALUE, IS ABLE TO FIND A PARTNER AND KEEP THEM HAPPY AND SATISFIED. The same shit I grew up with just… more radicalized and stated more hostilely today than previous years.
And the logical, rational, intelligent side of me knows to ignore this. I’m too smart, too educated, and too rational to be buffeted about by Cultural Expectations and Gendered Criticism! Except, I think the dirty little secret of my life… that is no secret to anyone who has read these pages.... is that while I can recognize the rational and embody the character publicly of one who is careful, considered, and thoughtful.... the truth is, against my own desires, I am still deeply a creature of emotion. I can rationally recognize lies, cultural manipulation, cultural distortion, and the myriad ways in which things are said to be that they do not have to be. And yet.... A silly hypothetical.... I think back to the young man I was. Consider me today and marvel at how my favorite color as a small child was yellow! MR. Forest Green and Royal Purple with a wardrobe filled with Black.... was a child that loved yellow. Even painted my bedroom a bright yellow color as a child! SO… for our hypothetical… imagine younger me being told that liking a bright color meant I was a girl. It didn’t happen but similar enough things happened throughout my childhood that such a hypo is not beyond my powers of imagination. BUT… rules of the hypo
- A Male Child likes the color yellow
- People in his life tell him that liking yellow means he is a girl.
This hypothetical is being proposed to demonstrate how my mind would react to such a cultural pressure. I would publicly and openly declare to all who asked or showed concern that I know better. With dripping sarcasm, I would say “Oh, liking a certain color changes my gender! I have friends that could save a lot of money with that information!” And discuss at length how the color of light in a spectrum is obviously immaterial to gender, gender performance, and gender presentation. BUT (in all truth, sincerity, and honesty).... the thoughts would stay with me and I would ruminate. I would compare this new piece of data to other pieces of data that support or reject the original premise. “I like yellow, and society says that makes me a girl. I like singing and society says that makes me a girl. I like acting and society says that makes me a girl. I do not like football or getting into fights; which I am told are boy activities. I feel like a boy. I am not confused about my gender identity. But society says I am a girl and continues to push the ways in which it considers me to be a girl.”
That’s… how that went as a kid. Which is how this shit happens as an adult. I KNOW my intrinsic value and inherent worth is NOT dependent on anyone or anything. But.. that is not the message I have received these last 41 years. My value and worth is defined by (1) my value to society; (2) my ability to form bonds with others; (3) if I am considered acceptable to people who know me best; and (4) my ability to secure a mate and build a uniquely important relationship hopefully leading to offspring. I know it isn’t rational; but that’s the emotional truth I try to ignore. What is my value to society? My job and my art; or my volunteering, or my donating money. SO… I kill myself at work; throw myself into my art; overschedule or over donate.... because my worth/value is tied to if I am providing society with a SERVICE. SO… I ruminate and (against my will) borderline obsess over my inability to form bonds with others and my inability to even make or keep friends… because if I am so incompetent socially, clearly there is something broken about me. Which, considering those same things are in elements 3 and 4; enhance the rumination and certainty that there is something desperately fundamentally broken about me that I may not be equipped to fix! I am considered “acceptable” by those that know me best… but little more than “acceptable” if I judge based on time spent, willingness to travel, or other such elements. I am tolerable but not wanted. Shifting directly into 4th slot with ability to find and keep a mate; which is complicated by the specifics of my history. IN ABSOLUTE TRUTH: of the 10 women that may count for my “history”… I broke up with 8 of them, arguably. I was the one that left. NOW, I say arguably because.... T2 was distancing, heading for the door, so I left. Aku was horribly abusive, so I left. Aoife was… we just didn’t work and we both walked away. Nancy was… in many ways, my divorcing her was because she rejected me. Victoria and Essen were distancing themselves and so I chose to stop pursuing or trying to figure my place in their mess. And Hermia is well documented in these pages. So even of those eight; at least half of the times I left were directly because she was leaving/rejecting me and I wanted something more definite, concrete, solid in that rejection. So, from a strictly “They still wanted the relationship, and I left” perspective.... that’s only happened 3 1/2 times. I count the 1/2 as Nancy because… she didn’t want a relationship with me; but certainly wanted what the relationship had become to continue. And I go to that detail because “to secure a mate and build a uniquely important relationship”… whether my partner finds me worthwhile/acceptable/worthy of a relationship? And other than Nancy’s half… the women who fit that description were (a) a severely unstable dangerous person who actively did me harm; and (b) Hermia.
So that’s … the glimpse into the “I know it is not rational. But underneath the Rational I try to project is all of this mental mess.” Where my worth is emotionally tied up in whether people care about me, find me acceptable, find me worthwhile. Where whether I am of value is cross-referenced with “Yes, but does anybody want you? Sexually, sure; but more fundamental than that. Does anybody want to spend time with you, build a life with you, have your influence or influence you? Is there a person on this planet that would sit and watch Dr. Who with you, or walk Nala with you? ANYONE whose lives would be enhanced by not avoiding you?” And that mental mess reverberates. No wonder it is so difficult for me to do any of the Epic Chore List! My largely isolated solitariness provides the irrational portion of my brain with no end of energy wasting by repeatedly establishing that my isolated solitariness is the result of my lack of intrinsic value or inherent worth. My own mind beating me down for the very condition that robs me of energy. Which I don’t manage well as I throw myself into things whether work, theater, or alcohol. It’s not exactly wonderful news but perhaps this stint of sobriety exists to show me exactly how often and exactly why I would drink the way that I did. Because drunk watching Anime or playing video games would be a minor mollifying respite to otherwise depressing and disastrous thought.
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