This weekly roundup thread is intended for all culture war posts. 'Culture war' is vaguely defined, but it basically means controversial issues that fall along set tribal lines. Arguments over culture war issues generate a lot of heat and little light, and few deeply entrenched people ever change their minds. This thread is for voicing opinions and analyzing the state of the discussion while trying to optimize for light over heat.
Optimistically, we think that engaging with people you disagree with is worth your time, and so is being nice! Pessimistically, there are many dynamics that can lead discussions on Culture War topics to become unproductive. There's a human tendency to divide along tribal lines, praising your ingroup and vilifying your outgroup - and if you think you find it easy to criticize your ingroup, then it may be that your outgroup is not who you think it is. Extremists with opposing positions can feed off each other, highlighting each other's worst points to justify their own angry rhetoric, which becomes in turn a new example of bad behavior for the other side to highlight.
We would like to avoid these negative dynamics. Accordingly, we ask that you do not use this thread for waging the Culture War. Examples of waging the Culture War:
-
Shaming.
-
Attempting to 'build consensus' or enforce ideological conformity.
-
Making sweeping generalizations to vilify a group you dislike.
-
Recruiting for a cause.
-
Posting links that could be summarized as 'Boo outgroup!' Basically, if your content is 'Can you believe what Those People did this week?' then you should either refrain from posting, or do some very patient work to contextualize and/or steel-man the relevant viewpoint.
In general, you should argue to understand, not to win. This thread is not territory to be claimed by one group or another; indeed, the aim is to have many different viewpoints represented here. Thus, we also ask that you follow some guidelines:
-
Speak plainly. Avoid sarcasm and mockery. When disagreeing with someone, state your objections explicitly.
-
Be as precise and charitable as you can. Don't paraphrase unflatteringly.
-
Don't imply that someone said something they did not say, even if you think it follows from what they said.
-
Write like everyone is reading and you want them to be included in the discussion.
On an ad hoc basis, the mods will try to compile a list of the best posts/comments from the previous week, posted in Quality Contribution threads and archived at /r/TheThread. You may nominate a comment for this list by clicking on 'report' at the bottom of the post and typing 'Actually a quality contribution' as the report reason.
Jump in the discussion.
No email address required.
Notes -
A Look Into Indian Gender Relations (And Marriage)
I have this habit of staying in touch with exes and former romantic interests. There are some acrimonious exceptions to this rule, but generally speaking, it leads to interesting places. Today was one of those days.
About a year ago, I found myself in that peculiar liminal space between the end of a serious relationship and receiving news that I'd successfully matched into psychiatry. I was consumed by severe anxiety during this period, convinced that my odds of making it were poor. With nothing to lose, I decided to cast a line into the dating pool and see what the ecosystem had to offer. Some of the fish, you could immediately understand why previous anglers had practiced catch-and-release. A small minority appeared mentally stable but lacked long-term compatibility potential.
Getting into psych felt like divine intervention. I still had several months to kill before starting, and dating apps became more of a time-killing mechanism than a serious commitment strategy. During this brief interregnum, I dated a model. Or arguably the second one, depending on whether you count a fashion designer who occasionally modeled her own products.
The stereotypes about models turn out to be empirically accurate. They constitute one of the most neurotic, high-strung demographics I've encountered. This particular specimen was gorgeous, came from a wealthy family, and within a few dates was proposing marriage.
She was also, unfortunately, somewhat unhinged. She carried an OCD diagnosis that manifested in an inability to use public restrooms (at least in India), complete inability to look at or touch bare feet, and dietary restrictions that bordered on eating disorder territory. In theory, I could have managed all of that. What proved insurmountable was the fact that she wasn't very bright.
I sometimes wonder whether men who marry purely for aesthetics fully grasp that children inherit genetic material from both parents. I would never marry someone intellectually deficient, simply because no offspring of mine deserves the curse of inheriting my appearance and her cognitive abilities. This woman had drawn the genetic short straw; the rest of her family consisted of high-achieving intellectuals.
Her problems stemmed primarily from extreme naivety. When we first met, she'd recently been dumped by a boyfriend she'd dated for several years. He was the archetypal fuckboy: a weaselly individual who owned and managed a popular nightclub and showed few compunctions about leveraging this for personal advantage. She explained that he'd attended a bachelor party in Thailand (the implications are identical to what Western readers would assume), and had sworn extensively that he'd maintained perfect fidelity. Then an anonymous contact had direct-messaged her photographic evidence of him engaging with local sex workers, plus clear documentation of him bringing one back to his hotel.
She'd been devastated and sought comfort from her mother, who remained remarkably unconcerned: "What's the big deal? He didn't cheat on you, did he? All men are like that, they need to satisfy their needs elsewhere." The boyfriend proved unrepentant, initially denying the allegations, then immediately ending the relationship when confronted with evidence.
I remember one eyebrow threatening orbital escape velocity when she related this story, with the other joining it somewhere near my hairline when she declared that I seemed like a good man and we should get married. I attempted polite deflection; I maintain certain ethical standards about removing undergarments under false pretenses. I told her she seemed nice, was extraordinarily attractive, and would definitely find someone willing to commit (Someone Who Isn't Me). The usual diplomatic pablum.
To avoid unfair character assassination, she possessed redeeming qualities. She was relatively down-to-earth by hot model standards, not particularly promiscuous (she even usually only slept with the men who had already lied about marrying her, which in a way is practically Victorian by modern standards), and didn't exhibit excessive enthusiasm for depleting her father's or future husband's finances. She was family-oriented, good with children, etc.
I saw her a few more times, sighed when she revealed she'd visited her ex, departed for Scotland, and experienced severe secondhand embarrassment when she had a pregnancy scare and decided I was the appropriate person to consult. I provided general advice mostly out of sympathy. Life presents unique challenges when you lack intelligence and constantly get manipulated by men seeking short-term pleasure when you want long-term commitment. Nevertheless, she continued calling at inconvenient hours requesting that I return and marry her, which became increasingly awkward after I acquired a girlfriend here. I changed phones and neglected to provide my new number.
We maintained Instagram connections, and she suddenly contacted me after an extended silence requesting a call. I was bored and agreed.
She'd been dating someone seriously for most of the year, with genuine intent to commit. He owned a small business in the same industry as her father (who was significantly more successful). She described him as kind and thoughtful ("he's almost as good at putting me at ease as you are!") and they'd discussed marriage.
I'd previously noted that she was relatively undemanding. This man was, if not impoverished, financially struggling. He lived with his parents and younger brother in a cramped house in an undesirable neighborhood, where said brother slept on the sofa due to insufficient bedrooms. Worse, his family maintained extremely conservative values. She'd once visited wearing a perfectly reasonable sundress, and his mother had become hysterical and demanded she cover herself during future visits.
When their relationship became serious, she'd issued a quasi-ultimatum. He needed to move out and secure independent housing before she'd cohabitate. He'd objected, claiming financial impossibility and, more importantly, cultural violations. In his tradition, men remained with parents unless circumstances provided no alternative.
(She genuinely impressed me by stating that she ought to tell him that in her culture, it was expected that the bride and groom get their own place. I almost clapped like a seal.)
I can't fault the financial reasoning, but surprisingly, she revealed that her father supported the marriage idea and offered financial assistance for property purchase or rental. She'd specifically mentioned openness to relocating within the same apartment complex or neighborhood to maintain family proximity. This would represent a massive downgrade in living standards for her, given her upscale current neighborhood.
Her father had actually offered to transfer control of his business empire to this man. The boyfriend couldn't claim financial hardship; his prospective father-in-law would fund the relocation and provide the keys to the kingdom. The man remained unhappy. His pride was wounded by the concept, and he claimed his family would judge him for accepting.
(He also had the audacity to demand substantial donations in the form of thousands of dollars worth of gold jewelry for his extended relatives.)
As I, self_made_human, absorbed this information, I was shaking my head vigorously. Some people genuinely don't recognize good fortune. As an honest wage slave in a foreign land, I could only marvel at this man’s ability to fumble the largest economic windfall of his life for the sake of an ideology built out of sticks, mud, and maternal approval. If some elderly gentleman developed such fondness for me that he offered both his daughter's hand and most of his wealth, I'd definitely give it serious consideration. I'd be tempted even now, except for my complete lack of interest in operating a large clothing business. This guy already ran a struggling version of the same thing. What did he have to lose?
I expressed sympathy and truthfully stated that I considered him an idiot with either no backbone or one bent in the wrong direction. The latter might be attributed to a stick lodged in his posterior. Speaking from experience, I explained that I had previously stood up to my parents when I was dead set on marrying one of my exes, even when all the world had protested that she wasn't good for me (it's neither here nor there that the World, or at least my parents, were right about that). She wanted me to communicate this to him directly via video call. Her plan involved presenting me as a UK-based psychiatrist she'd consulted for advice (technically accurate, I suppose). She offered substantial payment for this service. Then she requested assistance with her cervix, because I had, for reasons that escape me now, mentioned hymenoplasty.
"Do men really care if their partner is a virgin?"
"Some do? But it's 2025, you can work around it. But didn't you tell me you'd been together for a year? Don't tell me you didn't sleep with him."
"I did."
"Then how is he going to object to you not being a virgin on your wedding night? You can claim that's his fault!"
"Nooooo... I was thinking about if it doesn't work out, what about the next guy?"
I desperately pleaded with her not to approach my own parents (gynecologists) seeking that service. That isn't quite the kind of referral they need from me. A Muslim female gynecologist? Experts in that field, please look up one of those. She remained persistent, so I attempted to discourage her with graphic details about how women in historical periods would use bladders filled with chicken blood to simulate the expected gore. I recall conducting basic sex education using conveniently positioned curtains to demonstrate hymen rupture and restoration. Med school has taught me many things, some of them useful.
I eventually managed to escape, but my conversations with this woman are fascinating solely due to the absurd destinations they reach. I declined another round of marriage proposals, citing prior commitments, but mentioned I'd contact her during my next visit. I probably will, because getting laid is likely the minimum compensation I can expect after the sheer confusion and bewilderment she generates.
Models? Not even once, specifically not twice.
Thanks for the writeup and several flashbacks I had while reading this. It feels weirdly comforting to see situations similar to (formerly) my own, I remember being haunted by fumbling such a rare chance encounter but it seems to be common enough to crop up even here. At least this is my cope now.
I consider myself a hard-ass individual in most respects but extremely naive women being totally clueless about anything beyond the words exchanged are
my fetishthe one thing my heart cannot bear to witness, especially when I get told about all the times she got duped in the past cpt. Save-a-Hoe calls all hands on deck reflexively. Last time I tried my damndest to get the girl's mental toolbox up and running in at least some basic capacity, and while it lasted it even worked, but as soon as the romantic attachment was gone everything else went with it, and she was right back to the old habits (including picking a new guy to cling to) in literally a few days. She did write me an apology later, wanted to stay friends and promised to internalize things and change, but ngl I'm not holding my breath.I honestly got the impression that people like her prefer having no agency beyond the choice of partner; in my own case (likewise wealthy and insulated, with her entire life unsubtly arranged by her parents behind the scenes - e.g when I pointed out the possibility that her getting into the top university with below-average grades was not exactly a stroke of luck, she was genuinely shocked, and shortly devastated when she got curious, asked her father, and he bluntly told her their family made a uh, generous donation) this was all but explicitly stated, with a strange sort of pride even, something like "yes I may be stupid but at least My Heart Is My Own". At times like these I felt my rational-ish influence was actively dragging her down and introducing unwelcome doubts into a blissfully empty head that consciously looks away and refuses to entertain worldly concerns. I distinctly feel that if I'd been any good at manipulation and was less conscientous I would've gotten anything I wanted out of her, up to and including keys to the kingdom, with very little resistance.
On one hand the failure to do so still stings, as a wise man once said - hesitation is defeat; on the other hand, put this way I would not want to roll the dice on child genetic makeup either, girls are cutest when they're almost retarded but I imagine it hits differently when you're the father.
I mean her parents and brother aren't retarded, right? Won't she just revert to the mean with her genetic contributions most like?
It’s a strange sentiment to me… I’ve never really thought it or felt it. Idiocy in a girl kind of gives me a sinking feeling, “oh no… ugh.” Intelligence is interesting and makes me want to stick around. I guess I’m the odd duck if people are stating it so confidently, though.
I don't know, a bit of naivety in a girl is cute... but being able to keep up intellectually, and even contribute to an intellectual conversation, is beautiful.
A fresh and youthful attitude is lovely and joyous. Is that what people mean by retarded, do you think? What, do you have to be jaded and brooding to be intelligent?
Well, whatever. I’m in agreement with you in any case.
The best partner is both, imo. Half my jokes are silly stupid nonsense (I can't even count the number of times my wife and I have accused each other of being a "Sneef Snorf") and the other half are clever and elaborate constructions designed to sound like something reasonable and/or intelligent until they think about it for several moments and untangle the hidden meaning: which turns out to be silly stupid nonsense. I once wrote a two page short story with seemingly arbitrary fantasy and fairy tale features all to build up to the conclusion which was a sentence consisting of weird typos my wife (then girlfriend) had sent me while drunk the previous night.
I suppose someone less intelligent could still have appreciated the goof, but probably not to the same extent. Or wouldn't have taken the teasing in as much fun, as part of the embarrassment at her misspelling is because she ordinarily spells things correctly while sober. And someone less intelligent probably wouldn't have been able to respond to my hack MSPaint "photoshops" of our cat's head onto movie characters with an even higher quality photoshop of her own. And someone who took themselves seriously just wouldn't have appreciated the goofs at all.
You need both.
I still don’t get it. That sounds like regular silliness to me, not idiocy. Intelligence doesn’t preclude goofiness; good comics tend to be pretty bright, because they need to put their finger on the audience’s pulse.
But people seem to be talking, sometimes, about feeling attracted to “tee hee math is hard” kind of nonsense. And I don’t get it.
My guess is that they're being attracted to the silliness part of it and attributing the lack of intelligence as a cause of the silliness. Which potentially has some merit: I think there is a negative correlation between intelligence and silliness on average. I could be wrong, some people do just want to be way smarter than their partner, as some combination of pride and the ability to win arguments and control things, but I think most of it is correlations and stereotypes connecting intelligence to other things. If I had to choose between an intelligent bitter feminist constantly comparing everything I do to a historical dictator, and a sweet highschool dropout country girl with rocks for brains and a heart of gold, I'd choose the latter. If for some reason I was convinced that intelligence inevitably produced the former and wasn't aware of the exceptions I would have been tempted to join more unintellectual activities to try to find unintelligent women. Or just despaired and given up because I don't think they would like me even if I did like them.
The point being, I think some men do think this way. And I think statistically they're partially correct but missing plenty of exceptions.
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link
More options
Context Copy link