|Blogs > lonelyforsaken > Welcome to The Pit|
Man, I hate being able to see the problem, but not the solution.
I was reading an article in Slate on the German brothel industry and the World Cup, and part of the exchange between the writer and one of the locals finally let me see the problem.
It's this inherent need to be wanted. That's why I can't break free.
Bear with me for a few minutes: I'm still piecing this together into words that can be written.
Humans have to dominate. That's a side effect of our core survival mechanism, one we share with every other living thing: greed. To flourish, to prosper, you must have more. To get more, you have to be the top, so you get everything and your rivals starve.
But how to measure success? Food is fleeting, and power is transient; after all, you beat the man to become the man, who's to say your turn won't some? (Money, etc. is too recent an invention to apply here. I'm restricting this to deep-level drives.)
But, greed drives us all. We want what is good to and for us. Therefore, if others want/crave you, then you must be good, right?
That's the trap.
This whole male/female dance we keep putting ourselves through day after damn day. This pathetic pas de deux of lies, flattery, and deceit. All of it, because deep in our cores there's this little voice that says, "We're not really anything unless someone else wants us."
I can see it now. I can understand, better than these words can convey, this fundamental truth of the species. And because it's so ingrained into us, I can't work my fingers underneath it to throw it away.
Intellectually, I can grasp it. I know I'm not wanted; in fact, I'm only tolerated so long as I can provide a benefit. I will never be able to propagate, that most basic of all drives, because I'm a dead end. I'm what they clean out of the filter in the gene pool. And this fact is so obvious that women don't even consciously reject me, they simply avoid the issue entirely. Because of my flaws, I elicit about as much sexual interest as a floor lamp. (Less, actually; at least the lamp appeals to their instinct to decorate the nest.)
I'm conscious of the problem, and now I'm aware of why the problem exists. But because it's such a simple thing, biology, that I'm tormented. I'm too close to get the right grip, and no matter how much I might decide to be free, that little voice speaks across millenia of evolution and says, "Alone? Useless."
Maybe there is a solution. But damned if I can see it just yet.