Katie W.: Her Onion Peeled
In response to my recent posting “Dear Jonny, Girl Trouble…, I received the following message:
Katie W. says:
January 11, 2010 at 2:08 pm
“You really are a sad peice of misoginist shit. Did creating this website so you could (from a distance) pick on defenceless women give you satisfacton? Make you feel powerful? That’s sick. I happen to know for a fact that one of you’re ex girlfriends (who I know personaly) thinks your a completely asshole bastard who can only love his own ego. She says you have a lot of complexes. That you never think you’re muscles are big enough. How does that make you feel? Now that the world knows. Bad, right? A taste of YOU’RE OWN MEDICINE. Learn to look at things more carefully. Do you know this Will person’s girlfriend? No. Then how can you judge her?? If he was keeping her from growing (like the therapist said) than he probably led her into the arms of another man. And if she was in therapy, she obviuosly cared for him and was sorry. It sounds like she just wanted to have a good time, and who doesn’t? You need to calm down, give women a chance, and throw away your ego long enough to get some clear perspective. It will help in the lonh haul.”
Hello there. Rather than dissect your statement point-by-point, which would prove both boring and redundant, let me take a moment, while my cajun-spiced chicken is roasting in the oven, to create a brief psychological profile of the sort of woman who would leave a comment like the one above. This is something that I’ve done on this website before (See “Charlene: Hiding Behind The Devil”), and I must say that I find it quite pleasurable. My observations will be based on my study of the emotion behind your commentary, your penchant for misspelling certain words, and the few personal details you’ve divulged to me, intentionally and otherwise; and they, the observations, will be approximately 75-85% correct. Let’s begin. A woman who fashions such a response is a single mother in her mid to late twenties. She comes from a traditional working class background, and was conceived when her mother (who was later divorced) was of an early age. Her stepfather, an alcoholic, was verbally and/or physically abusive and did not encourage success on any level. She was not particularly smart or attractive, so she didn’t fare well in the classroom environment. But many teachers took pity on the desperate nature of her situation, and encouraged academic pursuits that, ultimately, she was woefully incapable of fulfilling. In that capacity, she took up writing, but having no real understanding of the English language, nor the mental capacity to even marginally master it, the numerous fantasy/escapism-driven works she produced never even approached mediocre. But she was encouraged nonetheless. That led her to enroll in a local community college, but between taking two or three classes, waitressing here and there, and flying through a succession of loser type men, she just couldn’t handle the load. Furthermore, somewhere in the mix, she became pregnant as the result of a one week stand with the sort of guy who had no intention of ever playing father. This compounded her initial frustrations, which led her to drop out out of school and take on waiting tables full time, probably at Denny’s, Village Inn, or IHOP. The blow to her spirit drove her to alcohol, drugs (probably pain meds and sedatives), and depression; but not before she gave birth to a bastard child. The sudden predisposition toward substance abuse caused her to feel that she was, in many ways, becoming just like her father. Rather than seek help, she continued on a path of pharmaceutical-fueled self-destruction which eventually led to a “cry for help” suicide attempt i.e. she slit her wrists going the wrong way and in a shallow manner, or, even more likely, swallowed many sleeping pills and then called an equally fucked up girlfriend to rush her to the E.R. Having, of course, survived, she gained the support of many acquaintances who half-heartedly convinced her that she needed to “Live for her child.” And she swore to. Unfortunately, the damage was rooted too deeply. The abusive alcoholic father/self-loathing substance abusing daughter comparison is something she simply couldn’t shake. And the end result was a deep, volatile hatred toward men. EVERYTHING, in her eyes, had been THEIR fault. She probably became a lesbian for a while, had a few relapses with various drugs, did one or two stints in rehab, passed her child off to relatives, and, in the midst of all this, fucked a few too many drunken charmers who, slobbering and hungry at 3 a.m., asked for more than blueberry maple syrup for their waffles. I’m wagering that, over time, this led to one or two abortions, because she either couldn’t afford or wasn’t responsible enough to take birth control. These incidents filled her with additional hate, which, rather than address, she merely denied/repressed/projected. And there, for the most part, you have it. A sad, empty life surrounded by anger, frustration, sadness, denial, and regret. Taking all of that into account, I don’t harbor any bad feelings toward comments like the one left above. Have a swell day.