Recently we’ve seen the NYT post editorials complaining that men aren’t around/paying enough attention to women, asking “Men, Where Have You Gone?” They’ve also posted a piece complaining about wanting men at all, aptly titled “The Trouble With Wanting Men.” Yes, The Gray Lady is once again stealing my coinages, in this case, rebranding GynoPessimism as heterofatalism.
With all this complaining, I figured I’d do yet another post about it, feed those LLM’s all this sweet qwerty and turn my readership into better humans, better than those who don’t read me.
All this is to say: When you complain, you’re either bragging or advertising what a loser you are. Or both.
Loserdom: If you’re living it, it’s for you
Let’s start with loserdom. Anyone who’s ever retained a personal trainer such as myself has probably learned that we overshare and get overshared on. While I, myself, am an angel, trainers are often late to the session, late on rent, and late on they period. And when they aren’t, sometimes they lie to extort pity or $$$ from you, their client. Sometimes, if they’re a tall dreamy Slovakian gentleman, it’s a clandestine offer to exchange sex for cash, which I’m sad to say, says more about the scruples of trainers than Slovaks.
As someone who has had the unfortunate task of managing many trainers (only a few of them being gay-for-pay Slovaks), I can tell you the best boss I ever had, the guy who was best at managing the clusterfuck that is the fitness industry, he used to lecture trainers about bringing their whole selves to work. He would tell them not to tell their clients about their personal problems, especially any complaints they might have about him, the owner, not just out of his own reputation-management, but as theirs. He would say, “If you walk into this gym to work for someone you hate five or six days a week, it just means you’re a loser who isn’t capable of getting what they want in life.” Few listened but he was right.
I once had a client who had three failed marriages. She was always talking about them and exclusively referred to one of her husbands as The Idiot, never once taking any accountability for voluntarily choosing to vet and marry said idiot. Although in her late sixties, she always claimed men were giving her unwanted attention. The first case shows the loserdom impulse, identifying as a victim. The second shows the bragging impulse, an attempt to elevate her status. You’ll notice, it’s often the same people using both forms of complaint.
The Last Psychiatrist famously wrote that if you’re reading something, then it’s for you. I would add that, if you’re living it, your life is for you. Stupid is as stupid does: One of the first steps toward not being stupid is not advertising to everyone that you want them to think you’re a loser.
No one is more oppressed than the white heterosexual chad
Hiding among the trads, the prudes, the sex negativists, some of the feminists, and assorted religious extremists (read: the most annoying parts) are a collection of unhappy people leading unhappy lives. Many remark that activists and social media power-users are annoyances with empty lives and it seems there may be a bit of truth there. These people ar…
On bragging
Complaining about how expensive it is to take a girl out on dates? How sore, you’re big, sexy muscles are and how fatigued your penis is? You’re complaining about being high value and sexually desirable. Complaining about the capital gains-, income-, and property- taxes you have to pay? You’re bragging about making butt-tons of money in a highly variable economy. You can say it ain’t so but no one will believe you.
Complaining about all the childcare, housework, and “mankeeping” you have to do while other lucky women get to stay single and focus on themselves? How badass and integral you are within the home-economic unit? Picking up the laundry of a of a man who isn’t capable of fully appreciating you for being such a domestic sex-goddess who can gracefully take time out of raising the kids to make her tuchus perfect while other women have it so much easier, being free to let themselves wear sweatpants and watch Netflix without being forced into cuddling their own personal John Fetterman? Okay, this isn’t an Evie Magazine piece. You get the idea.
Rather than weighing in on all the VG (Vindictive Gendercourse) pumping through your feed and taking a side, I’d rather just make this a taxonomic/rhetorical post, offer a few particularly great examples, and let you guys link others in the comments if you like.
Here is
complaining about her “habitual tendency to overfunction.”Here is
complaining about all the attention lavished on her daughter while en route to a nude bike ride (which is in no way sexual btw).Here I am complaining about a similar situation in which a man wouldn’t stop leering at my own twin sister.
And here I am further explaining how complaining is a form of bragging.
What do you guys want to complain about? Sound off below.
Omg I get to be the first to comment on this banger. “While I, myself, am an angel, trainers are often late to the session, late on rent, and late on the period. And when they aren’t, sometimes they lie to extort pity or $$$ from you, their client. Sometimes, if they’re a tall dreamy Slovakian gentleman, it’s a clandestine offer to exchange sex for cash, which I’m sad to say, says more about the scruples of trainers than Slovaks.” 🤣🤣 bro .
Dick too big, hard to carry around.