According to blamer Metamanda, somebody commenting on a recent thread, perhaps swept up in the frenzy of the moment, typed this:
Is there anything about being a geek that makes a person more attractive?
There were apparently other unfortunate statements, such as “no social skills” and “can’t get dates.”
“Those are low blows,” responds self-identified geek Metamanda, “of exactly the same sort that reactionary men use against feminists.” [Read her entire post here.]
[Because the spinster aunt's eyesight ain't what it used to be, I am unable to locate the comment in which is nestled the anti-geek remarks quoted by Metamanda, but I will proceed on the assumption that it exists.]
This is not really a personal blog, but in the interest of subsequently enbiggening a broader point, I might as well reveal unto you a little something about myself: I am a geek/nerd/spazz. Or, more accurately, I can be said to possess traits in common with other persons so categorized by the cold, cruel world.
For one thing, I am, when observed through the encrapulated lens of patriarchy, funny-looking; I walk with a limp, and sport a pair of 8-inch scars where my tits used to be. I have stringy, greasy hair, zits, glasses, and a Frinkian overbite. I am said to be “bird-like,” probably because of my emaciated physique and prominent honker.
For another thing, I am uncool. I own a visor and a fanny pack. Just the other day I said “nee” several times. I then translated it into Latin and said it again. I possess the DVD boxed set of Star Trek TOS (actually, the one I have is more ‘encapsulated in plastic space-pods’ than ‘boxed’). I look at bugs through microscopes. I have a fascination for a species of amphibian called cricket frogs. I watch those corny “British Comedies” on PBS every Saturday night (I fall asleep before “Monty Python” comes on, but that’s OK; I’ve got that boxed set, too). I would read science fiction all the time if it weren’t, alas, so incompetently written. While still a child, a freak accident with a subset of negative integers left me almost entirely differentiated by derivatives, and thereafter I lost all mathematical ability. I was in denial at first, but if those math teachers told me (n) times, they told me {(n) + 1} times: I was doomed to infinite regress.
The other nerds cast me out. I was a geek without a gang.
Thus, my own “social skills” developed such that I have been variously diagnosed as afflicted with Tourette’s, with extreme eccentricity, with some sort of as-yet-undiscovered high-functioning autism, with charismatic narcissism, and/or with a low-ish high IQ. I have not matured emotionally or intellectually beyond the age of 17 (some experts disagree, and put the figure closer to 14). On an average of twice a week, fair weather or foul, I am compelled to run across the lawn waving my arms as though I intend to take flight, or to take a stroll on tiptoe with my ass sticking way out. I am physically awkward and have been known to tip over without cause, straining the plausibility of Newton’s Third Law. Sometimes I involuntarily utter strings of meaningless syllables ending in “P”: bup bup bup bup pip pip pip pip. I stutter on telephones. Quite often I am incapable of communicating to people behind counters at coffee bars or pharmacies in anything but preverbal grunts or twitters. Sometimes, when I hear myself make a particularly funny noise, I involuntarily collapse into a state of violent merriment or lunacy, perhaps best described as hysterics, that can span half an hour. If this happens while I am driving, look out, Austin!
Thus am I considered odd by most and rude by many. Often I am taken for an imbecile.
Unlike most of the Brotherhood of Man, however, I find many of my aforementioned deviations from the norm to be pretty agreeable, or at least comical. Like, until you’ve tried it, you have no idea how liberating it is to do the butt-walk in the $700 Extra Virgin Olive Oil aisle at Whole Foods. And that episodic convulsive laughter, from which accrues all the benefits of the conventional orgasm without all the inconvenient effluents, stickiness, appliances, legal restrictions and political issues, is fucking awesome.
It is an asset, not to mention a joy and a relief, to be unencumbered by social skills. What are they, after all, but a set of arbitrarily-conceived customs meant to sort people into classes, the more conveniently to be dominated by those whose mastery of the arbitrary customs is superior? I’m sure I need not point out to you, O my fellow blamers, that the stability of patriarchy as a system of social control relies on the mass assimilation of these customs. Customs are the currency of culture; the more you absorb, the greater your rewards. But closer examination reveals them to be nothing but taboos and commandments designed to restrict human conduct to a finite set of ritualized mannerisms constrained by foul ideals of deference, appeasement, and conformity.
“Attractiveness” is one of those mannerisms. You know what? Fuck attractiveness and the establishmentarian horse it rode in on.
So, back to the question posed by Person X, “is there anything about being a geek that makes a person more attractive?”
I am happy to say, no there isn’t, and isn’t that nice.
By the way, using my highly advanced scientific method, I have determined that 73.4% of the readers of this blog are geek/nerd/spazzes. The sci-fi thread of last week has broken all attendance records.
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