G.L.Piggy [at] gmail.com
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Here are the facts, as I can discern them from this poorly written piece of mangina journalism from The Hairpin:
Drawing on his own experience, and ignoring the possibility that E. was being a cunt, Jeremy advised E. that she had a very sharp weapon in her tool shed that she should wield at the guy she stiffed if he should become verbally confrontational while she was handing him his five dollar bill. The word that “makes us [men] stay up at night”.
The C word.
Here’s Jeremy, sounding like Shaggy from Scooby Doo:
Jeremy Paul Gordon (on her deathbed, my grandmother told me to never trust a man with three first names) should have sympathy for C-word recipients since he relates a particularly disturbing personal experience with the pejorative:
I’d met this girl at a party and we’d spent spent most of the night talking, drinking, commiserating, etc., and at one point she’d looked me in the eye and literally said “I like you.” Then she asked me to walk her home to her apartment 20 minutes away. I’m not bright, but I’m not blind. We left the party and walked to her apartment, where this exchange occurred.
Her: “So, I think I’m just gonna go upstairs and go to sleep.”
Me: “Uh… really?”
Her: “Yeah, I think I’m tired.”
Me: “Are you sure?”
Her: “Well, what did you expect?”
Me: “I don’t know, I thought maybe you were thinking of inviting me in?”
Her: “That’s weird. It’s kind of creepy of you to think something was going to happen just because we left together.”
Of course the gap between the girl’s “I like you” and their arrival at her apartment looms as large as the one in the Nixon Watergate tapes. Odds are, Jeremy had his ego pelted with creep-shot because he either has negative game or failed to maintain the chick’s buzz.
After the nuclear rejection, Jeremy mumbled some sort of apology then dazedly stalked to his bus stop. Showing that he would still have no game even if given a Time Machine and was led dick-first by Aphrodite herself, Jeremy retrospectively waffled between telling the girl “sorry to disturb you, good night” and “Fuck you tramp”.
While he doesn’t realize it, Jeremy’s Costanza-esque soliloquy of “should have saids” is actually the creepiest part of the whole exchange – by conventional definition. Women define creepy very broadly. Weakness is creepy. Anger is creepy. Any man who lets a woman he hasn’t been intimate with ruffle his feathers is considered creepy. Any man who raises his voice is considered a creep. Any man who curses at a woman for any reason is considered a creep. Any man who hides his true feelings is considered a patented Nice Guy who is secretly seething underneath his scaly exterior. He is also a big fucking creep.
But this girl provided a new twist on what constitutes creepiness. Like some sort of courtship Chinese finger trap, any man who asks for something from a girl and is rejected is a creep. Thus, men who don’t have Game, good looks, or status and who expect any romance from women are creeps. It is not enough to even consider these men losers anymore. Losers just exist in their own cesspool of loserdom; creeps, some would have us think, actively push their creepiness on us like a guy selling knock-off perfume out of his trunk.
Jeremy had no thought, either instinctively or in his multiple mental iterations, of taking either a cocky-funny tack or taking the opportunity to socially shame this pixie. Even in the face of her cold response, Jeremy could have at least mustered a “Umm, OK, can I pee on the bushes then?” or “I charge $5 for the lift and $1.25 for each additional five minutes. Tips accepted”. Extend hand and stare straight at her. Clear throat for effect. Pee in the bushes anyway.
Granted, this girl’s audacity deserved more than a humorous response (but certainly not an apology of any sort). Perhaps a simple “Why else do you think I walked you home?” would have sufficed. I would have preferred a straightforward “Here’s a hint, sweetie, don’t express interest in a man and then ask him to make a 40 minute round trip for your own safety and comfort if you’re not willing to give something in return. You’re not that precious.” An even tone mixed with facial disgust.
And while logic most certainly wouldn’t work on a girl like this (and is likely to reinforce her creep charge in her own eyes) it might be fun to point out that she closed the curtain on the evening by saying “so I think I’m just gonna go to bed” instead of “Well, goodnight and thank you”. Even though this girl propositioned Jeremy for a walk home, she turned the tables on him and made him look like a jerk for thinking that her come-ons meant something. Her qualification implies that she knew an upstairs invitation was expected. Therefore Jeremy’s consternation was not creepy at all. But girls have tits and, thus, no need for logic, etiquette, or manners.
Point is, she called him a creep after leading him on, yet the neophyte is telling grrlfriend E. that she should pull that same H-bomb out of her purse.
Jeremy goes on to explain that the guy E. was trying to pay back was a creep because he told E., up front, that he couldn’t work with her on a project “because he was attracted to her and didn’t want to waste time laughing at her crummy ideas while slowly trying to convince her to touch his penis.”
Yet E. is trekking across town with an LJBF strapped to her inner thigh in order to give a five-dollar bill to a guy who called her a cunt. She’s doing this after the guy laid down the Royal Flush of all negs by telling her that he didn’t want to suffer her pitiful ideas and that he only wanted to get into her pants. AND SHE TRAVELS TO HIS APARTMENT IN ORDER TO GIVE THE GUY BARELY ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY A MIDNIGHT SNACK.
Upon meeting the guy at his apartment, E. apologized and then casually mentioned that she brought Jeremy for protection. Jeremy froze up, but the cab fare guy barely responded.
The guy who E. paid was being, in fact, the opposite of creepy. Creepy, as I partly defined earlier, is a desperate act of unrequited love. Staring, stalking, and masturbating behind window blinds. Sidling, prank-calling, and sniffing panties without permission. Those behaviors are creepy because they don’t give the woman any say as to whether she’d like to participate in the man’s fantasies of her. The man hides his thoughts out of the sake of social convention and fear of either ridicule or imprisonment. But this newly paid creep was quite up front about his thoughts. He didn’t hide behind bushes or peek through windows trying to steal glances of the girl, and he didn’t accept an invitation to work with her while lying to her in several different ways. Instead, he came right out front and stated his intentions and he was realistic and honest.
Yet Jeremy thinks that E. would consider this guy creepy. The only creepy thing in this picture will be E.’s panties once cab fare guy hands Jeremy $5 to pay his way home. But at least he’d have some money to show for this long walk.
For added fun, check out the comment section of The Hairpin piece.