Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Freedom Fighters: the Circle of Blame and the Emotional Clusterfuck

Being a man, I used to hate arguments. Even if you win (the argument), you lose (out on sex). It might sound strange, but at some point in the last few years I started to actually enjoy arguing.

It was the strangest realization when I discovered that I was pissed off, just got hung up on, and yet, I was excited about it. It was like this battle that happened every time that I picked up the phone. Between battles we would reload by gathering information, forming strategies, or looking for holes in the other's logic or story. Come battle time we brought our artillery to the agreed upon location (Cingular network) and unloaded whatever we had.

Sometimes there would be midday sneak attacks where one of us called the other person when he/she wasn't expecting it and let off a bomb. It was possible to avoid those attacks by not picking up the phone, but then you'd just get bitched out for not picking up and your excuse would be scrutinized in the ensuing battle. It was better to take sneak attacks head on as they came rather than let the bomb feed itself all day.

Sometimes there would be peace talks in a calm environment, like in an e-mail. You can set up all of your defenses for the day's attacks and suggest some sort of compromise to end the war. But, the next day all is forgotten and once again you feel the wind from the harsh words as they whiz by your ear and explosion from the intense decibels of yelling that penetrate your eardrum.

In the beginning, I took advantage of my superior technology (knowing her e-mail password and searching around her computer) and clearly dominated what appeared to be a one-way war. Information wins wars. But then my own weapons (Google Desktop Search) were turned on me as the enemy adapted. The enemy didn't have any real substance to her attacks, but she had enough to create her main weapon: The Circle of Blame.

In case you've never heard of the Circle of Blame (because I made it up just now), it's very much like riding a merry-go-round that you can't get off of; and the merry-go-round is on fire; and there are people on the outside throwing potatoes at you; and you have this spray bottle that will just barely keep the flames off of you; and you have this shield that is exactly the size of a potato; and the only way to escape is to jump (hang up the phone) ... only to end up on another merry-go-round (pick up the phone - begin [merry-go] Round 2).

Okay, so metaphors aside, what the Circle of Blame is is when you get blamed for something, you give your excuse, that leads to something else (you give your excuse), which leads to something else (excuse, yet again), and then eventually comes back full circle to the original source of blame (then repeat). This is known in the political arena as filibustering. This is known in the female mind as entrapment. The only point to repeating this circle over and over again is to either catch the man with something inconsistent or else make the man forget what he said before. Women have the skill to widen the circle over time so that the man can't remember the proper or past response to each question. And, all he has to do is answer it differently than he did before and he's guilty! The genius thing about the Circle of Blame is that the man doesn't even have to be guilty of anything for this weapon to be used effectively on him. The only necessary ingredient is the formation of accusations. And, for most women, forming accusations is as easy as waking up in the morning. It's something that's natural and just part of life.

Women may have the Circle of Blame, but men have: the Emotional Clusterfuck. Men don't have time to come up with as complex of methods as the Circle of Blame, but we've got brute force on our sides. Since we don't give a damn, we are immune to emotional methods of attack. If my enemy said to me "your friends hate you and my girlfriends think that you're ugly" I wouldn't give a damn. Now, if I attacked with an analogous barrage, I'd get rather satisfying results with minimal effort. My enemy would be distraught for weeks and would believe my words over her own opinion. Furthermore, she would have no defense, as her emotions would draw the bridge and lead my invading army to the throne.

You see, this is the difference between a man and a woman in a fight. A man is only susceptible to attacks of logic and reasoning. A woman is only susceptible to attacks of feeling and emotion. It's much harder to attack with logic than it is with emotion. For this reason, men should always dominate arguments. But not all men are smart/mean enough to use the Emotional Clusterfuck. To these men, I have a message: you need to start thinking of yourselves as Freedom Fighters.

Each time you lose a battle, the government (your woman) slowly, but surely takes away your freedoms and dignity. First, you can't go out drinking with the friends she doesn't like. The, you can't hang out with that female friend of yours that you've had since high school. Then, you have to watch a re-run of Sex In the City instead of Family Guy. Then, you have to be home for dinner on time every night. Then, you have to be home in time to make dinner every night. Then, you have to wash her car every week. Then, you have to brush her hair. Then, you have to paint her nails. Then, you have to rub her back. Then, you have to hire a concubine because she doesn't feel like going through the pains of labor! This is out of control! Don't let it happen to you! I'm here to save lives - spread the word!

I'm exaggerating, of course. Relationships are not always wars. Probably just mine was.

This post is still under work...I'm trying to perfect the concepts here....

4 comments:

Eric said...

dude you've just had bad luck with bad women. probably not even bad luck.

Anonymous said...

You are beginning to sound more and more like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City.
-Jasleen

chrysantha said...

you had to paint her nails?????

Matt Lee said...

The painting the nails and the rest were hypothetical. Haha.