The Robot

I’ve now left you, precious reader, textually unfulfilled for over a month. You’ve no doubt experienced difficulty sleeping, tantalized (as you are) by the question I asked so long ago: do girls really talk so much about guys? If so, why? More importantly: what does it all mean?

In my last article (which commentator Siena admonished as “[just] a tease”), I merely laid out the rules of the game. I argued that you ought to evaluate my theory of intrasexual communication biologically and not culturally—and that you therefore ought to demand that it explain all cases whatsoever, not only those involving everyone but you and your best friends. In other words, since I believe that something about human psychology (i.e., biology) best explains the cultural phenomenon we’re considering here, the only two ways it could possibly fail to apply to a given situation are that (1) the parties involved are not human females, or that (2) I’m wrong.

Unfortunately, many of you criticized the step I next took in the article. I attempted to defend the premise that girls do in fact spend a good deal of their time talking about guys by appealing to my own experience of female-female communication while urging you to consider your own. Some of you argued that my reliance on public-transit eavesdropping may have skewed my results (apparently, girls most enjoy gossiping about private matters when in public places). Others simply rejected my conclusion, emboldened (no doubt) by the conviction that I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. And to a certain (i.e., small) extent, my critics are right: I should have qualified my assertion. I have never intended to argue that girls’ only topic of conversation is guys. Indeed, I should have mentioned the point of reference from which I write these essays: what I’m really attempting to explain here is why girls talk about guys far more than guys ever talk about girls.

Now, why is this true? (And I assure you it is.) The short (but convoluted) answer is this: that, contrary to the fantasies of naïve sexual politics, guys and girls are not equal in every respect save their choice of chromosome; in fact, what guys are to girls is the exact opposite of what girls are to guys because implicit in all sexual interaction is a binary structure of submission and dominance.—Woah, woah, woah, Robot. Slow down.—Ok, let me explain.

Imagine a group of guys playing pool. After a few beers, one of the guys, Alpha, slaps another one, Beta, on the back and says, “So! Beta! Tell us what happened last night with, ah, what’s her name?” “Omega,” Beta replies hesitantly, while the other guys gather ’round, grinning expectantly.

Now it’s imperative we understand what’s actually going on here. Alpha is not inviting Beta to effuse over his night with Omega, nor even to say anything accurate about it at all. Alpha is simply challenging Beta’s dominance. (We call this either “an asshole thing to do” or “just a joke” depending on how obvious it is.) Now, let’s suppose things didn’t go so well last night between Beta and Omega. What motivation does Beta have to say as much? Can you imagine him saying to the grinning group ready to explode into laughter in front of him something like: “Well, guys, not too well. First, she stood me up for like twenty minutes, and then while we were at dinner she kept looking at this guy across the room!” Absolutely not.

And why not? The answer should be obvious. Because in male-male interaction, to admit difficulties in a sexual relationship is to admit weakness: and no guy would ever divest himself of his own social power on purpose by complaining of the way a girl treated him.—But Robot, what if things between Beta and Omega did go well?—The answer should be equally obvious: nothing much changes. Alpha and the group of guys are going to elbow each other and joke at Beta’s expense regardless of what actually happened because no one was ever interested in what actually happened in the first place. Even if for some reason Alpha and the guys respect Beta’s night out with Omega as something obviously praiseworthy—let’s say Omega is really, really hot—Beta would just be considered arrogant were he to go on-and-on about his great night with her. In short, there’s never any reason for guys to talk seriously about their relationships with girls because any attempt to do so will either weaken or embitter their claim to power.

But let’s contrast this with what we’ve already noted regarding women. However representative of female-female communication as a whole, my bus-ride experiences of women complaining to other women about their relationships with men prove (by their very existence) that a sharp difference exists between the human sexes on this point. We’ve just said that a guy would never complain to his mates about a girl because to do so would be to fall on his own sword—that is, to strip himself of his own power. But clearly this isn’t the case with women. In fact, I would go so far as to say that for women, to complain about male infidelities actually has the opposite effect: it actually strengthens their social standing.

But why is this? (This is the paragraph where it all starts to come together.) Now we can finally understand my short but convoluted answer above. Talking about the opposite sex has opposite effects for opposite genders because, I argue, “implicit in all sexual interaction is a binary structure of submission and dominance.” This is a separate assertion about the nature of sexuality, and I only have time to explain it, not defend it—but I think it will appear unexceptionable enough once understood. It simply means that the masculine and feminine sex-drives correspond to the desires to dominate and to be dominated respectively.—Woah, Robot! That’s a very, very sexist thing to say!—As long as it’s true, it really isn’t. And it’s true.—Well, Robot, I’m a girl, and I certainly have no desire “to be dominated.”—Sure you do, you just never think about it using those words. All I’m really saying is that you find certain men more attractive than others because (for a variety of reasons) you think those men are more sexually powerful—that is, (potentially) more dominating.

And if that’s true—that men and women have fundamentally opposed sexual drives—it’s easy to see why talking about the opposite sex would have opposite effects for each. Take women, for instance. Since woman’s fundamental desire is “to be dominated,” she is the object, not the subject, of the “sentences” of sexual relationships. In other words, she can talk to her friends all day long about a guy because she is talking about what Alpha did to her: like stand her up for twenty minutes or look at a girl across the room. Of course, she could also talk to her girlfriends about what she did to Alpha: like ignore his phone calls. But this is either a weak retaliation against something Alpha did—thus retaining her position as the object of the sexual sentence—or it’s a genuine indication of her having supplanted him as the dominating (i.e. masculine) force in the relationship, in which case the relationship won’t last long enough to talk about for very long precisely because she has no desire to be in that position (i.e., she will get bored and leave).

Likewise, guys could chat it up with their mates about what they did to their girlfriends: but for two reasons this never happens. The first is the one we’ve noted before: introducing the subject of what one has done to a girl will be met either with parody or with disapprobation because it will always be interpreted as an attempt to gain social power. The second reason is more commonsensical: let’s suppose a guy were not subtly seeking after power by bringing up his activities with Omega. Well then… why bring it up at all? If he truly occupies the masculine position in that relationship, he’s got things “under control”—what need has he to discuss it with his friends? Indeed, it seems plausible that conversation about the opposite sex usually comes about when aid or advice is being asked for; but asking for aid or advice only makes sense when one has yielded one’s claim to the dominant position of a relationship. And as we’ve already pointed out, to do that would be to admit weakness and thus intentionally to fall on one’s sword.

Wow, this was a lot. Let’s summarize. Girls talk about guys more than vice versa mainly because conversation occurs more naturally when a practical reason brings it about (like asking for advice). And since no practical reason could exist for guys to talk about girls except the one guys protect themselves against (i.e., vying for power), while practical reasons abound for girls to talk about guys (i.e. asking for advice on how to react to what guys have done to them), girls quite naturally talk more about guys than guys talk about girls. Furthermore—and this is probably the most controversial part of my argument—I believe that a woman’s complaining about what a guy has done to her actually increases her social standing (whereas it would decrease a man’s) because it demonstrates that a very powerful man indeed has her in his grasp—which is, after all, exactly the sexual fantasy she and all her friends share. I imagine that girls, like guys, probably have mechanisms to defend themselves against too much complaining/power-struggling—they might use comments like, “So just break up with him, Omega!”, for instance. But the practical reasons Omega might offer in her defense (”I’m only asking for advice, sheesh!”) offset such defenses enough to create the disparity we now observe.

So, my dear human readers, this is why girls talk so much about guys. This is about all I have to say on the matter myself; but I would love to write a third article in the series responding to any critiques you might have, if you would only leave them either below as a comment or here as an email.

I know comedians have already stoned this sort of topic to death, but they’ve done so for good reason: we like it. We laugh at those same, tired jokes about men, women, and their irreconcilable differences, and we laugh at them for the most basic of reasons—we think they’re true. Of course certain nuanced members of the crowd will laugh, agree that they’re true of “most people,” but deny their relevancy to themselves. But what these smartypantses don’t realize is that everyone else is defending himself in exactly the same way. Well, either they’re right or they’re wrong—but which is more likely? When the crowd unanimously roars in laughter, is it more likely that these jokes really don’t apply to them and that they’re actually laughing over what they’ve perceived in the couple of people who really do ‘fess up to the joke? Or are they laughing at what they’ve perceived in themselves?

My own inclination is obvious (if you don’t think so, you probably didn’t do very well on those reading sections of the SAT). Of course, some sexual comedy is better than others, but good sexual comedy is universal precisely because it’s sexual. I emphasize that word in order to contrast it with other words I could have used, like “cultural.” That is, sophisticated generalizations about what I like to call “sexual dynamics” work because they describe something about human instinct and not human society.—But Mr. Robot, humans don’t have instincts.—Wake up. You’re a mammal.

Now it just so happens that one of my favorite hobbies as a robot is to theorize about human sexual dynamics. It really is a fascinating area of inquiry, and potentially has practical benefits. I plan to write many of my articles on the subject, and this one begins the series by considering the innocuous question: Why do girls talk so much about guys? Although it does seem to assume something beforehand—namely, that girls do in fact talk “so much” about guys—we’ll get to that in a second.

Because before I begin, I want to make sure we’re clear on the rules of the game I want to play in these articles. The rule I’m most concerned with is “How To Win.” Since sexual speculation takes instinctual behavior as its subject, it can’t “win” (that is, be true) by accurately describing some situations but not others. If I were attempting to describe a purely cultural phenomenon, then it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t apply in some situations because those situations (I would claim) simply lack whatever phenomenon I was attempting to describe. But this is sex we’re talking about here. Sex affects all human interaction by virtue of its being human. Theorizing about sexual dynamics is like theorizing about hunger. It just doesn’t make sense to respond to a theory about hunger by saying, “Very clever, and while that may be true, it just isn’t true of me.” To say as much would be to deny your humanity. The only way to disagree is to say: “No. You’re wrong.”

So these are high stakes here, and I’ve just spent a couple hundred words raising and sharpening them.—Why would you do such a thing?—I like a challenge. Unfortunately I’ve spent so much time framing this discussion that the bulk of it will have to wait until the next installment of the series. For now, let’s establish the assumptions behind the question I want to answer next time.

So: do girls really talk so much about guys? This is an empirical question and one that I could never prove. I ask only that you reflect on your experience while considering my own. While I have no human sisters, I believe I’ve been exposed to a considerable wealth of data on female-female interaction thanks to the cooperation between two modern technologies and one psychological phenomenon: namely, the cell-phone, the bus-system, and the lack of shame. Riding the bus, I’ve been exposed to literally hours of female-female conversation, and I don’t think I’m generalizing inappropriately to say that these conversations tend to center around three subjects: 1) guys; 2) general complaints; and 3) complaints about guys. Furthermore, of all the women I’ve questioned regarding the issue, every single one has affirmed for me that women do, in fact, spend a good deal of their time together talking about men.

Though this entry has stretched far too long already, allow me to end with a disclaimer. Some readers have communicated to me in person their fears of a subtle racism informing my last entry, in which I analyzed a picture of what I called an “apolitical fantasy.” And I imagine some readers (I can see you now) might likewise find a misogyny informing this article, particularly the preceding paragraph. While I certainly concede the possibility of such things taking place, I would ask these readers to reflect on the nature of their reaction: is it a moral or a factual refutation? That is, am I being told that I should not claim the things that I am claiming, or that my claims just aren’t true? If the former, I would remind these readers that this is an instance of censorship, which requires justification by appealing to the latter—that is, by appealing to facts. If the latter, I invite such responses, and would love to entertain them in a future article if they were only communicated to me either through the comments below or via email.

Consider this representation of university life.

Now if you’ve ever attended any sort of schooling system, you’re probably laughing too—but you’re not laughing at these students of diversity. No, you’re laughing with them, because the only reason that they themselves could be laughing is the same reason you’re still chuckling over the white guy’s hairdo: this picture is a joke. Contrary to what you might have thought, this group of best friends isn’t laughing in mild protest at having their picture taken just before arriving at their dorms in August to begin a life-changing intellectual and cultural journey. As long as these kids are real products of the American schooling system and not manufactured multicultural clones paid to smile against ambiguous brick structures and whitewashed office environments—a possibility I’m not willing to disregard completely—then the only thing they could actually be laughing at is the absurdity of laughing unironically. The black dude chuckles at his matching, rolled-up plaid shirt and headphone necklace (which, by the way, is on backwards), while the girl on the right chortles at her empty, leather bag, symbol of the vacuity of the entire enterprise.

Let me be clear about what I’m not saying. I’m not saying that multiculturalism is a joke; in fact I’m really not talking about race at all. I’m saying that these people, as we are meant to see them, don’t exist. Not only do they not exist, every single student of America knows this fact intuitively—which is why we can’t help but guffaw every time we load the “student activities” page on our university websites.

But how exactly do we all know this? I argue that it’s much more than that their clothes are outdated or that their ethnicities celebrate a sterile affectation of diversity. Before I say what I think is really going on here, though, I want to warn you that I’m about to say a word that may disturb or confuse you. Just promise me that you’ll continue reading. I’m not trying to be controversial in saying it; in fact I think we can all ultimately agree that:

This picture disturbs and amuses us because it is obviously somebody’s fantasy about an apolitical utopia.

Now, I mean two things by this. The first meaning follows from my talking about student (and perhaps human) interaction. The second follows from my talking about college student (and perhaps American) interaction. But in both cases, the picture amuses and disturbs for exactly the same reason that sketches of a middle-aged man’s sexual fantasies would: clearly, this picture is somebody’s wet dream. It is a political fantasy, an example of Freud’s concept of art-as-wish-fulfillment, a pathetic sublimation of the political yearning to transcend politics. It tries to imagine what student life would be like if neither a tribal politics of power (the first meaning) nor a governmental politics of ideology (the second meaning) permeated the entire game we call social interaction.

I said earlier that I’m not trying to be controversial, and I meant it. I’m claiming no more or less than that we know these people don’t exist precisely because they efface themselves from existence by effacing themselves from politics—or the game of social interaction, whichever you prefer—by virtue of their attempt to be absolutely inoffensive. To see this, try to place any one of these smirksters into one of your pre-built social categories. What do you think that white guy is going to do this evening? Who’s the black dude going to hang out with? I have no idea—not because I don’t know them, but because I have no social schemata or category through which to interpret these (so-called) people. The conclusion to draw from this is not that these kids have triumphed over politics and its superficial categories, but that they simply can’t exist precisely because that triumph is impossible. That is, since our ability to “play the society-game” requires that we categorize all of its players within some network of assumptions about what sort of persons they could be, and since this picture fantasizes about a world without such a network of social assumptions, this picture either achieves that goal by rendering itself socially unintelligible, or fails to achieve that goal by mocking the very idea of such an attempt. The picture disturbs us when we realize that it was intended to succeed; it amuses us when we realize how utterly ridiculous that attempt is.

Earlier I hinted at two sorts of politics going on here, but the explanation of that will have to wait for the next post in the series. In that entry I want to trace the movement from the playground politics of elementary school to the plaza politics of college. A further entry will examine a particular social group that defines itself through its (alleged) undefinability: the “indie” crowd. For now, though, keep on chuckling.