I recently received the following message:
August 11, 2012 at 8:22 pm
“Let me explain something to you, you godawful human being. My boyfriend seems to think that you’re some sort of unsung hero by virtue of being both big AND smart. He’s very big himself but he’s also kind of an idiot, so I guess it’s really your supposed intelligence that he respects. Ever since he started reading your website (something he now does obsessively) his attitude has changed dramatically. He’s been less agreeable about most things and more combative in general. I blame this entirely on you as there have been no other outside influences that I know of, and believe me when I say that I know my boyfriend. Does it make you feel powerful sitting behind your computer with that fancy brain and those cartoonish muscles, using language to negatively influence your readers? Does it get you off knowing that you’ve gotten a rise out of me? Is it your goal to turn men against their girlfriends, wives, etc!? That seems to be the case, which make you a very sick fuck. A lonely sick fuck. A lonely and bitter sick fuck who takes his frustrations out on women by pitting their men against them. I hope you and your website burn, you degenerate asshole.”
Greetings and salutations, Mandy. I thank you wholeheartedly for such a visceral, abrasive response, as it’s been many a moon since I’ve been compelled to thoroughly dissect the psychology of a random reader; doing so never fails to slap a smile across my face. Now, let’s get down to business. After brushing aside the majority of your angry ranting and baseless ad hominem attacks, ultimately your qualm with me can be separated into four parts: 1) Your muscled-up “idiot” of a boyfriend is no longer subservient to the degree to which you are accustomed. 2) His undesirable transformation is my fault. 3) It’s my fault because he’s been visiting my website. 4) Therefore, both my website and I should burn. Having established this, I’ll venture to guess that with the exception of a few possible (minor) errors, this is precisely what’s transpiring behind the scenes: As a college educated (state college; C+ average) woman in her late twenties to early thirties – one who holds a middle-management position – you enjoy dating physically impressive but intellectually inferior men who you can dominate with relative ease. Playing puppeteer leaves you feeling smart, successful, and powerful. Your looks are average, at best, and I suspect that you once had a reputation as an unenthusiastic bed hopper, so this sense of control has become vital to your psychological well-being. Choosing men with a passive demeanor suggests that you wear the pants at all times, particularly when you consider the aforementioned intellectual handicap. That said, while your current boyfriend was browsing through my website, he came upon something which struck a nerve. This led to an epiphany concerning your emotional psychosis (“Jesus, she’s a controlling cunt”), which caused him to reconsider the nature of his relationship with you (“If that’s what she is, what am I?”), thereby altering his behavior (“Fuck this shit!”). When confronted by these unfamiliar changes in his personality, you elected to pin the blame on me and my writing – I’m betting you haven’t read a bit of it – as that was far simpler than asking yourself why, exactly, he felt the need to change in the first place. The answer: His girlfriend is an emotionally unstable control freak, who, rather than take accountability for the chain of events her actions are perpetuating, chose instead to clear her conscience via writing a hate and projection-fueled email to a total stranger, so she could then carry on with a life wrought with convenient delusions and logical fallacy. Don’t bump your ass on the way out, Bitch. Slapped.