Under normal circumstances, I'd adjust the all-caps title to MEET THE WHIMPSTER: THE MANIPULATIVE ASSHOLE IN SENSITIVE CLOTHING., a different version of which appears in this month's Bust, but it's a lazy Saturday afternoon, and I'm feeling lazy. And copy-and-paste-y. Deal.
The whimpster relationship is always the passive/aggressive stalker type.Everyone's been in one of these... also known as: "hanging out", "coming over", "friends", "not my girlfriend", "whatever," "trading mix cds" or even worse: the pretend marriage.
This is the tricky part, because you realize that whimpsters really reveal more about your character than theirs. They prey on your insecurities by revealing their own. This is how you get stuck in a codependent, passive, jealous relationship with a whimpster you hopelessly try to fix, even though he won't let you. You'll spend a lot of time wondering why he's around, because his emotional unavailability is staggering. "If he's so sensitive, why isn't he even talking to me?"
Discuss.
Or don't.
There's also (in the magazine, not on the site) a brief history of vibrators and clitoral stimulation as a means of achieving orgasm, but it's pretty -- in fact, totally -- Western-centric. 'course, I'm not sure it's even possible to examine that in non-Western cultures, particularly from a historical perspective, since any first-person accounts from contemporary sources would, inevitably, reflect the biases of the (generally male) Western observ--
It's a lazy Saturday afternoon. Perhaps there's a better time for this discussion.
Or not.
I hate so many things about that "whimpster" article. For one thing, any piece of writing that has the phrase "Fuck Lloyd Dobler" in it gets a strike against it in my book. Sorry if it's corny, and if it's any consolation I don't think Duckie is all that great, but I can't help it if I love Lloyd Dobler, and anyway, he bears no resemblance at all to this "whimpster" if you ask me.
But that's the least of it. Basically, the whole piece sounds like an indirect diatribe against a specific boy the author has known, generalized into a type that doesn't necessarily exist. I mean, sure, there are lots of guys out there that have a lot of faux-"sensitive" hipster trappings that mean nothing when it comes to actual emotional maturity or availability. And even more that are a mixed bag in this regard--that have examined some assumptions but not others, that are pretty much down but resting on their aren't-I-progressive laurels. But to say that all such guys are festering with hidden misogyny, are really really really bad in bed, and all the other things she claims, is just unfounded. And there is such a thing as a guy who's into interesting music, reads, etc., and who is not evil.
But the thing that really bugs me is the quiz, which makes explicit an assumption that was suggested in the article proper. According to the quiz, all men are either manly-man goofballs, metrosexuals or whimpsters. I know, hard to believe a quiz like that could oversimplify matters, but seriously, though I'm sure the author wouldn't claim this is really and entirely true, I think a watered-down version of that claim is supported by the article text. Basically, she's saying that if you don't want to get screwed around by a manipulative poseur you have to either date some icky stupid guy who watches lots and lots of sports or find a flaming metrosexual, a type I have never actually run across in real life. Meet a guy who's shy, likes books, and owns a Death Cab for Cutie record? There's no way he can be redeemed. You'll just have to be shackled for life to some jarhead if you want to avoid the torture.
I did think she made a couple of points, which I would have been interested in seeing discussed more under different circumstances. One, the fact that nowadays a lot of men will say they are feminists/girl-positive/etc. when they either don't mean it or don't really know what it means. Two, the fact that there are these cultural trappings that have become associated with intelligence and/or sensitivity that any schmo can latch on to and give the impression of depth without necessarily having any. Though I think the not-so-subtle misogyny of a lot of emo music, which is definitely related here, has been pretty thoroughly explored in a variety of sources.
OK, I'm done.
Susan, oh good, I was worried my poor reaction to the article was either the Veiny Evil acting up again, or seeing myself in it. . .
Not that these are mutually exclusive.
Coffee. I shall have more coffee.
Veiny evil, even when it's not totally warranted, can be an understandable response to something really stupid.
On the other count, I would say based on my limited perspective that you bear only the slightest resemblance to the largely-fictional whimpster, mostly just because you so decidedly fail to resemble the jarhead type or the metrosexual, and because you read books and listen to decent records.
The only merit I found in the piece, that of bring up the feminist poseurdom afflicting a lot of non-jarhead men these days, doesn't apply to you at all. In my experience, the best anyone can do to understand people of a different gender, and the best anyone can do to understand a group that is disenfranchised where you are privileged, is to think, read some stuff occasionally, and keep questioning one's assumptions. All things I have to remind myself to do when it comes to men and people who don't have privileges that I do. All things that you seem to be as vigilant about as anyone I can think of.
That last paragraph is phrased really weirdly because I don't want to sound like the arbiter of whether or not you're girl-positive enough just because I'm a woman and a feminist. My point being, I guess, that if I was the arbiter I would find that, especially given the grading curve, you get the gold star.
Oh, except you may only get a silver if you were serious about identifying with Bron Hellstrom.
Which answers the question I just asked about which other Delany you'd read. . . does "seeing aspects of yourself you aren't particularly thrilled with" equal "identifying"? If so, then, um, silver is a pretty color too. . .
Well, I'm usually appalled at how many people are totally incapable of seeing aspects of themselves they aren't thrilled with, or at least recognizing those aspects for what they are. If you can a) see how fucked-up Bron is (and Delany makes it pretty hard not to), b) recognize some of his/her qualities in yourself, and c) that makes you un-thrilled, that shows a degree of critical thought that is unfortunately rare.
What with the ooky adolescent mindset of whole sectors of the sf reader population, I've often wondered about what must have happened when less-enlightened schmoes ran across Triton and went for it thinking (based on the totally irrelevant plot description on the cover) that it was a space adventure. This, of course, with older editions, before there was an introduction by Kathy Acker and stuff. Could anyone possibly get through the novel wholeheartedly identifying with Bron, not questioning his/her misogyny and weird personal disassociations? Who knows, maybe in some cases. Or did they throw it across the room when he had the sex change? Or shrug the whole thing off as incomprehensible? Or did it actually make anyone think who hadn't already given some thought to the idea of gender oppression? I really wonder.
Susan, somewhere I've got a book of critical essays on Delany's work, which included quotes from contemporary reviews. If I remember right (doubtful), some reactions to Triton did indeed Miss the Damn Point. Quite spectacularly, in fact.
And I'm not sure my slightly-lesser identification with Sam is an improvement.
There is some not-so-fine line between overly critical self-analysis and a total lack of self-analysis, right? Because as much as the former doesn't seem to do me much good, the latter in other people generally makes me want to bash 'em in the head with a Louisville Slugger.
Not metaphorically, neither.
I was thinking about it today between bouts of Dhalgren and realized when I was reading Triton, the only character I identified with even sort of consistently was Lawrence. Wonder what THAT means.