Watched a pretty amazing show this weekend, called Virgin Diaries, about the lives of adult and middle-aged virgins.
And to be honest, it was cringe-worthy. Truly. Cause these people are walking proof of the cruelest fact of life…that a loser today will be a loser tomorrow, will always be a loser…
Is it harsh saying that?
It’s sucks saying it. It damn sure sucks hearing it. But, more than anything, it hurts living it.
And a lot of people do.
Of course, it isn’t PC to say shit like that, right? And I get it. I get why.
We’re told by so many people, and hear from so many places, that we’re all great, all wonderful, all special; that each and every person is a unique and important person because they are a person, and that no person’s life is more important than any other based simply on account of what that person might have or do or be.
We’re all special little snowflakes, as deserving of any or everything as any other.
Most societies are based on this simple notion of justice – that we’re the same, that we’re equal, that we have the same intrinsic value. And I, myself, have plenty of articles on this site that say much the same thing, when it’s of value to see the world, or demonstrate a point, through that lens.
But, the truth is, reality’s more complicated than that. And nature’s not so just.
Maybe, though, you’d have to see these guys to understand it.
Cause the dude I saw that day was 36 years old. And not only had he never been “around the bases”, he’d never even set foot on the field – never kissed a girl, never been kissed, never known what it was like to do anything more than a hug as friends. And in the last 10 years had won just 1 or 2 dates – though he wanted more, though he was desperate for more.
I very much doubt there was a second date on either occasion.
Cause he’s weird.
He’s a loser.
It’s something you won’t hear, though, in a great many self-help sites. But the simple truth is, losers do exist. Of course they exist. Why else would there be self-help if there aren’t things for which we must admit we’re lacking?
And beneath the candy-coated ideals that we’re all wonderful, and lovable, and deserving of only the best, is the fact that some are more worthy than others, and therefore that some are less so than the rest.
That some are funnier, stronger, more confident, more attractive.
That some are worth more, wanted more, are more.
That some are better.
Of course, there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with not having been with a girl, not wanting one, not trying at all.
I’ve never ridden an elephant, for instance. Nor have I tried that I remember.
Like being with a girl, it’s just something you can maybe, possibly do if you wanted to – like all things.
It can be a choice.
That wasn’t his choice, was it?
It wasn’t simply something he never got around to, never thought of, never cared about.
It wasn’t like that at all.
I guarantee you he thought of it. I guarantee you it haunted him, even – with every woman he saw, with every one he met; with every magazine he opened, movie he saw, porno he watched the thoughts in his head were the same…
That he wanted someone.
That he was desperate for someone.
But that he’d never, ever get one.
And so there’s an important reason why his virgness (we’re just gonna assume that’s a real word) is the complete opposite of my lack of lifetime elephant adventures.
Because his inability to get one or any lady isn’t just some thing that “just hasn’t happened yet” as some might say; that the right one “just hasn’t come along”.
As if he plum forgot. As if he could if he wanted to, but just hasn’t. As if he’d have done it by now if it weren’t for so much else happening in his life.
It’s something that straight up won’t happen – because of who he is, and who he’s become.
And so, it isn’t just some life choice he’s made.
It’s a choice they’ve made.
It’s a reflection of him – his personality, his worth, his value – in a world where we are all, necessarily so, guided by value.
Evolutionary science tells us…
…NOT that we’re special little snowflakes, but that we’re simply genetic organisms – big bags of genes that aren’t concerned with morality, or fairness, or what’s right or wrong or PC to say.
Our genes are concerned with a single thing, and only this single thing:
That they survive another generation.
That somehow, someway their DNA lasts long enough to successfully and efficiently pass that DNA to an offspring; that their code doesn’t die out and disappear from the Earth. And all our decisions, and all our intrinsic wants and desires in some way relate to this goal.
That we want to be fed and clothed; that we want to live in safety and comfort; that we want a better education, a better job, a better life, all help ensure that we’re able to meet and mate with someone of similar or greater value, so that our children’s genes are strengthened or improved.
There’s a reason a female doctor doesn’t marry a janitor. There’s a reason a rich businessman marries a beauty queen.
Whether we care to admit it or not, we all have a true and measurable value – a worth consisting of not only our looks, but our personality, our potential, our ability and means to ably take care of not only our partner, but our children.
We walk the world every day with this invisible score above our heads, and we’ve evolved means of not only demonstrating our score, but of evaluating the scores of others.
Because I may not be able to see one’s bank account, or so quickly learn of his entire history, but I can see his confidence. I can see the strength of personality, his comfort in himself, and his ability to interact and handle others. I can see his ambition, his passion, his drive. I can see his manner of dress, his hygiene, his social circle. I can see who he is without knowing him that well at all.
Women do it every day. Men do the same.
We judge each other. We evaluate each other. We make determinations on who is a person of value to us and who is not, on who is someone worth our time and who is not.
We have no choice. An there’s nothing wrong with it.
Because – self-help ideals aside – we are not equal.
Some are better than others.
Some are more important than others.
Some are more valuable.
And so we come back to that dude…
…so desperate, so lost, so completely and totally lacking in confidence and horrified to speak to a woman.
Is it fair, then, to say that this man’s equal to any other? Is it fair to say that he’s as deserving, as worthy, as valuable?
Because – in the strictest evolutionary sense – if no woman will have him, of all the women he’s so far seen and met in his life, then there is no reason for the next girl to have him – to risk her genes combining with his, to risk her looks, her value, 9 months of pain, and 18 years of responsibilities – to raise a child that would only likely be just as lame as him.
There’s no reason to waste any time on him at all.
And so the show bring’s him to some hot girl, and she looks at him with something of sympathy in her eyes, and she tells him: “Just be yourself. And it’ll happen.”
But does she offer to date him?
Fuck no. Of course not.
She wouldn’t touch him with a pole.
And “being himself” hasn’t worked. Because being himself is the problem. Being unconfident, being shy, being awkward, being boring, being afraid.
His value is low because his worth is low. His belief in himself. His confidence. All are shot and gone because – in the genetic sense – a man who can’t get a girl is no man at all.
It means his name will die with him. It means he has no value. It means his genes will and should be weeded out as inferior, when a gene’s only purpose is to spread and live on.
It means he is – to our species, and to the woman in front of him – worthless.
And that’s why this dude has no confidence – a vicious circle that feeds itself – with every rejection he finds.
Cause deep down, he knows it – as any dude would.
He feels it. Not simply as a desire not met, or a want not won, but as something greater, something graver, as something inherently and incurably wrong with him.
A feeling of complete unworth.
And every day his “drought” continues his belief in his Self – and his ability to solve this at all – becomes that much worse, that much harder, and the problem becomes bigger.
And the amazing thing is…
…that to this dude, it really did “just kinda happen”.
Like the frog in cold but warming water.
Cause this dude was once a kid; once a teenager. Awkward sure, but not so much more than any other his age, I’d guess. Not so much different.
And when girls ignored him, or he ignored them out of fear or lack of self-confidence, he told himself: “Ah well. Whatever. It’ll be better in college.”
And in college, when his fears never improved, and his results never changed – when girls still ignored him – he told himself: “Ah, I’m late, but I’m not THAT much later than most. It’ll be better once I get a job; once I get money.”
And in his 20s, when he had his job, his place, his car, and his fears never improved, and his results never changed – when girls still ignored him – others told him: “You just haven’t found THE ONE. It just hasn’t been meant to be…”
And on and on and on. And worse and worse and worse.
Except that…now he was beginning to realize, beginning to see – that it wasn’t simply a matter of blooming too late.
It wasn’t his bank account, or car, or the place he lived.
It was him.
The horrible feeling that it’s him.
Because before he knew it – before he realized the seriousness of how lame he had become – he was a 36 year-old virgin, with 7 years between dates, being forced to embarrassingly, and – quite honestly – painfully admit on camera and in front of the world that he was in fact a 36-year-old virgin, now getting advice from such knowledgeable sources on meeting women as his Mom and his nearly as lame friends.
It hurt to watch, as the show forced him to go talk to women. I couldn’t look even. My brother couldn’t look. My brother-in-law couldn’t look. And any person who watched it surely felt much the same.
Cause it’s not about…
…the girl or the “accomplishment”.
It isn’t about “getting laid”.
Screw that shit.
It’s the feeling this dude must have, and the worth that this dude must feel, because of something he has allowed to happen to himself in his life.
It’s that it’s come to this at all, when there was no reason it should have or needed to.
It’s that when you watch it, you see that nothing will change for him. Because nothing will change about him.
He’ll keep doing all the same he’s done. And he’ll keep receiving all the same he’s received.
Cause he never realized, and still hasn’t realized, something that most others too never realize – when they complain about their lives, and complain about themselves, yet do nothing to fix it, nothing to change it…
That how you are now, is how you remain, when you do nothing to fix it. And who you are now, is who you will be tomorrow, when you do nothing to change it.
That a loser at 15 is a loser at 20. And a loser at 20 is a loser at 40. And on and on, when you do nothing about it.
That if you’re a loser today – right now – and do nothing, you will die one too.
It won’t change.
It won’t get better.
Life won’t improve at all. Till you yourself do.
And that’s what’s holding this dude back – that he isn’t his better self, that he isn’t his best self, that he thinks it will get better “somehow” instead of purposely.
But shit doesn’t just change magically. You don’t just wake up awesome. You’re not graced with confidence and value from on-high or something – just cause you think you’ve “earned” it, or think you “deserve” it, or think you’ve suffered enough or waited enough.
Life doesn’t care. Life isn’t fair. And it doesn’t work that way.
You’ve gotta earn it.
Cause who you want to be, is who you must become, to get what you now want. And who you are now, is what you must change, to end the life you now hate.
And in this dude’s case…genes don’t care about fairness. And vaginas don’t hand out charity.
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