The John The Baptist Syndrome

As the guardians of the gene pool, women’s most essential mission is interdiction. They must not only reject us personally, but also make sure that we know that we are aspiring above our rightful station; that rightful station being of course isolation and a miserable, early death. Kind excuses like “I already have a boyfriend” or “I’m sorry, you’re just not my type” are reserved to the attractive also-rans; the unattractive suitor needs to be staked at a crossroads at midnight by being resolutely informed that no woman in the history of the universe would look at him twice.

This mission may, of course, occasionally be compromised by needing something from the unattractive man. Although they do not speak of it in quite that way, preferring tropes of slavery and abuse, for “civilian” women this is the true horror of prostitution: namely that in order to lay their hands on money, they may be obliged to refrain from this ceaseless patrolling of the quality boundary. To have sex with the unattractive man may in itself be endured; but by having sex with him to undermine the collective message, that he needs to eat shit and die – by having sex with him to imply that he is actually a human male – that is the true iron in the soul. It may be that the actual prostitutes through this experience find that unattractive men are actually human after all, or perhaps they are just pretending; however that may be, this miscommunication is the deepest reason for the disgust and indignation of the “respectable”.

What Bernard Shaw called the “decent” woman, that is, one acting in accordance with the evolutionary demands of improving the gene pool, may find herself in need also of emotional comfort and support from the unattractive man. The diligent genetic guardian in this predicament has a precise course of action mapped out for her. The ugly who encounters it will perceive the repetitious pattern and give it a name – such as the John the Baptist Syndrome. He will find a woman who is temporarily out of play, through a reverse like heartbreak, through crippling mis-parenting or through some other abuse. Out of unselfish love, out of passion or compassion, or merely out of a desire to get into her pants, he invests a lot of emotional energy in conducting repairs. Now, if he fails he may indeed gain that woman; that is, if she remains demoralised and without confidence, she may settle for him for lack of a better.

If, however, he is so competent in the offices of friend and therapist that he actually improves her state of mind, then he risks improving her self-esteem to the default level – that is, the level at which she is too good for him. He has now fulfilled the office of the falconer who launches the bird from his wrist to strike down high-flying prey. He has made straight the way of the Lord, that is, of the genetically superior man whom she might have missed were she still moping.

Is there an equivalent pattern the other way round, the Joanna the Baptist Syndrome perhaps? I do not know for certain, but it would not surprise me. The point is that uglies should know their place in the world.

Posted on June 6, 2010 at 09:33 by Hugo Grinebiter · Permalink
In: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, The Life Unbeautiful

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