Kill The Player, Part II

One thing that not too many people take into account is that ‘men’ are still, by and large, operating on caveman mentality, especially when it comes to what the group considers ‘cool’. When it came to the hairy brawling beasts, the simplest way to prove a point was to scatter your opponent over several square yards of forest, with grisly reminders such as entrails wrapped lovingly around bushes, severed heads balanced jauntily on branches, and litres of blood soaking the forest floor, for the slower members of the clan. What alpha males got for this most excellent level of group dynamism was the unquestioning loyalty of every remaining male in the pack.

Unfortunately, this hasn’t changed much over the past few millennia.

These days, when the alpha in a group declares something to be ‘cool’, every male in his group must either agree unquestioningly, or challenge for leadership and be exiled after a thrashing, or simply keep their mouths shut. Debate and reasoned opinions are only for those rare groups that don’t need an alpha - and however far we might have come as humans, the day where that kind are the majority is still aeons away.

Since alphas command this level of almost blind obedience, it’s pretty common to see ‘personality cults’ of a sort developing, where the hangers on in the group are simply bad copies of the leader; they talk like he does, dress like he does, and try to behave with the same arrogant swagger that he does too. The reasons for someone becoming an alpha are varied; but most often, it’s directly related to a type of success that everyone wants. Like getting laid, for example.

In school, where most guys learn the ropes of male bonding and social hierarchies, the first of the semi-permanent groups develop around the first few guys to get lucky with the ladies, mostly because there’s nothing that combines the thrill of a dangerous sport, the absolutely mind blowing feeling of getting laid, and the hordes of envious admirers as well as teenage sex does. These guys might have been the first for any number of reasons; brawn, bulk, good looks, ability with casual cruelty; the point is, these gargantuan fish in thimble sized ponds become used to the unquestioning admiration of the lesser mortals. And the sex is pretty good, too.

How does one maintain this automatic kingship in face of the fact that sooner or later, most of the others will also get laid? Simple. Keep getting laid, preferably by different women, hopefully as often as possible. In a nutshell, this is why guys think it’s ‘cool’ to sleep around - because every guy , at the end of the day, wants to be the biggest dog in the pack, and what we learn as boys is that a major characteristic of big dogs is that they get laid, variedly, and often. Oversimplification, perhaps, but come over, and we’ll have a beer over the nitty-gritties.

Moving on.

This, however, doesn’t really explain why women also think it’s cool for a man to sleep around. Being a man, I only have theories on this, but since you’ve read my drivel so far, I figure I have you for another couple of paragraphs at the least.

For a woman, as far as I understand, the competition is not so much about getting laid, as much as it is about getting offers to get laid. Chris Rock (the man’s a genius), in Bigger and Blacker (what a show), put it something like this; “See, it's easy for women to turn down sex. lt ain't shit for y'all to turn down sex. You know why? 'Cause every woman in here, ever since you were fifteen, every guy you met has been trying to fuck you!” So, it would make sense to assume that women, in their groups, aren’t really competing for scores; they’re just competing on potential scores. Especially since actually sleeping with lots of guys opens up the can marked ‘whore’ (written in a largely feminine hand, I might add). And it’s not just about numbers, either. You, as a woman, could have a hundred nerds lusting and panting after you, but if that one dude doesn’t show you more attention than he did yesterday…

‘Wait; is that him, talking to her? How dare he! And she! Doesn’t she know he’s the biggest player around? He’s just looking to get laid, and she’s such a little ho. I’m the only one who can control him. He’s meant to be with me, I’m the one who’s going to change him from this uncontrolled, randy little boy who’ll shag anything that moves into a dangerous, lusty man who’ll shag only me.’

In one fell swoop, the dude’s position as alpha of his pack is cemented - ‘Dude, he’s got chicks fighting over him, and look at the chicks doing the fighting…’ - and women have decided which kind of man is worthy of their attention - the one that every other woman wants - which locks both men and women into this whore infested pit of superficial and mindless shagging and bragging - and cheapens sex, the other sex, and relationships in general.

Allright, so enough bile and bad temper. There are enough whores on either side, that both sexes can wince privately about, and this loving deconstruction is possibly one of the ways that they evolve. Is anything else possible? Sure. Loving relationships do exist. There are men who aren’t overgrown scrotums, and women who have more on their minds than what other women think of them.

So how does one kill the player? Part Three, some time this week.

Trifeck