Dispatch From Douchelandia

Pinhead wonders why people hate him:

He goes on to lament “the derision in the eyes of and occasional open attacks from friends’ wives (it’s not contagious)” and “the burden of being a lightning rod for the fears of women and the resentments of burdened men (three drinks in, they all admit they’re jealous).” “I’ve suffered plenty,” he says, “I still suffer. But our reigning cultural norms demand that, like Hank Moody in Californication, I suffer more. […] Why?”

The reason is in your parentheses, Danger Man! You say your choices are original, that “it’s not contagious,” and then you say all men are jealous of you. You want us not just to listen but to like you, even as we contrast your life as a “DILF” dating “twentysomething hip-hop intellectuals” with that of one of your naysaying friends, a “single, 42-year-old” woman whom you imagine “dead in her Upper West Side one-bedroom, prized dachshund licking at her corpse.” Gee, Phil, do you think women might want you to suffer because, in your vision of the world, men either fuck around or want to, while single women get eaten by their dogs?

What Nobel did may not be “contagious,” but it happens often enough to make a lot of women worry. We worry that a man will do grown-up things with us, like marry and have kids, or just fall in love and make us feel safe, and then he’ll announce that he never really grew up at all and that he needs to go back to his twenties, with a twentysomething girlfriend to match. A few exceptions aside, this option still seems far less open to women — especially when others assume that not being married means becoming dachshund fodder.

What I love about this story is that this guy assumes that women who are open-minded and progressive about sex should also be okay with him having it extra-maritally without his wife’s consent, because … I’m sorry, wait, what? I don’t care if you fuck men, women, sheep, grapefruit, several of each, a variety pack, whatever, so long as everybody in the situation is cool with it you’re not doing anything I disapprove of. Where it falls apart for me is when you present yourself for approval (Why do you care what I think, Danger Man? Why does the reading public need to validate you?) and then get pissy because I happen to point out you broke a promise. Why is this hard for this twatwaffle to figure out?

Also, Jezebel commenters for the win:

It’s just that his choices are unique and individual. It’s simply an amazing coincidence that he makes exactly the same choices that douchebags have been making for ten thousand years.


I’m sick to death of the tragically hip, oh-so-tragic hero, bemused by life’s absurdities schlock that passes for writing these days. Bring back Hemingway.


“Hey, everyone, I cheated on my wife. How bad do you all want to be me? You don’t? Haters!”

A.

5 thoughts on “Dispatch From Douchelandia

  1. To quote Twisty Faster, I blame the patriarchy. You treat the women in your life like shit and then you want cookies from other women for doing it becauseyou made out like a bandit, and then get mad because other women see the giant flashing “JERK” sign above your head and keep asking you, “Whaddaya want, a medal?”
    I don’t give a damn about marriage and monogamy puzzles me, but the deal with being non-monogamous is that you kinda have to make sure that anything you do is cool with the other people with whom you’re involved. If it’s not, you’re an asshole and you deserve to be kicked naked and barefoot out into the shitstorm and have the door locked and chained behind you.

  2. I’ve got news for mr thing–of the two of them, his “45 year old female friend” and himself the one most likely to die, alone, being licked by a dachshund, is the one who deserted his wife and children for the twenty something. She’ll move on–trade him in for two twenties when he’s sixty. His wife will have moved on. And his kids sure will have. Expect to see the obit in a few years “has been writer famous for “elle” column dies alone in trash filled apartment. Neighbors did not know his name.”
    aimai

  3. I’ve got news for mr thing–of the two of them, his “45 year old female friend” and himself the one most likely to die, alone, being licked by a dachshund, is the one who deserted his wife and children for the twenty something. She’ll move on–trade him in for two twenties when he’s sixty. His wife will have moved on. And his kids sure will have. Expect to see the obit in a few years “has been writer famous for “elle” column dies alone in trash filled apartment. Neighbors did not know his name.”
    aimai

  4. Along the lines of the Jezebel commenter who mentioned that his actions are so outré that there’s a Biblical injunction against them, Isn’t the “world’s oldest profession” the one dedicated to servicing guys like this?

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