Posted on Sun Feb 26, 2017
6AM. In this post I whine even more than usual.
Many females like to have visibility: to climb on the stage and appear in front of everyone as protagonist of a vicenda. According to my personal categorisation of human behaviour this is no narcissism: narcissism is more a one–to–one relation. I would call it mild histrionic behaviour.
A way females have to build visibility is to fake interest for a man. This does not only involves trying to get your attention, which is the less interesting part; the useful part is telling everyone in the radius of 10 kilometres, so that everybody knows. It happened to me multiple times. It does not matter who I am and what I do (I’m a freaking boring person); what matters is that, according to some principles of interpersonal politics, it is fine to exploit me.
I do not react well to this. Sometimes I just want to mind my own business. Sometimes I have no interest for the female. Sometimes I am interested in another female, not that one! Sometimes I would for sure like to please the woman, even by being complacent to her histrionic behaviour; but with some limits! To meet someone there must be some “private social space”, there must be room for an “us” first; if everything happens under the spotlights: it is not my thing, I suffer the social pressure, my maleness gets irritated because it’s like people are trying to force my actions: woo her, or else…! I try to steer away; this has a multiplier effect on gossip.
Occasionally this situation becomes paroxysmal; I have not even talked once to the woman in question and she has already told everyone in the neighbourhood. Waves and counterwaves of gossiping ensue… Friends of the woman will not talk to me, because I have to make the “first step” with her; so speaking to me would be betraying her. Other men interested (or not) in the woman see me as an enemy and start acting against me. (I do have enemies, and sometimes I make them just by existing…) Literally, some people talk to me with the only purpose of extracting gossip from the conversation and later sell it on the market, to better their social position; if they fail at gathering gossip, they just make up something because… who cares? (I cannot stand these people for long.)
Believe it or not, some gossips are so powerful that they cross city limits: they take the train and reach me in another town. Sodding gossip!
As a man, I am supposed to stand alone against everything that is thrown at me; like I am some sort of Thor, God of Thunder. But I live as an unworthy Thor, unable to lift the hammer; so I get beaten a lot.
Sometimes I do stand, really. I make no friends, I get no respect, but I drag myself on.
Other times I falter. Because I am not always there to just have fun; I live hardships; I have some very important personal interests to carry on; some once–in–a–lifetime occasions.
Life is hard.