I could talk about a zillion mannish issues since the bar opened. The way other men treat me, say hi, shake my hand, even call me “sir,” is just so weird. I have all this new RESPECT now, and RESENTMENT and JEALOUSY, all because I own a building with a business in it and have a bunch of debt and the potential to make a reasonable but by no means outlandish amount of money. But what’s struck me most lately relating to this here stuff took place in the bar but is really unrelated to my bar-owner-man issues:
At the bar the other night was a friend of mine who doesn’t really know my business partners. This friend, he likes to arm wrestle, claims it’s because it’s “the only thing he’s good at” but we both know that’s not true and that he’s a small wiry guy who’s deceptively strong and needs to prove it a little now and then. While otherwise fairly noncompetitive and mild-mannered, “Jack” used to be a very serious rock climber, etc. – that is, he’s got him a mean set o’ guns, and he actually knows arm wrestling technique, to boot. So Jack wanted to arm wrestle and someone suggested he arm wrestle one of my partners.
This particular partner, Chris (may as well not give him a pseudonym, I’ve only got three partners, not much protection I can offer him or me here), he’s a lot larger than Jack, physically strong and one might argue a dementedly determined individual, but also one whom I think of as not terribly into physical competition. People at the bar laughed and goaded them on. I found myself not wanting any part of it, in fact, not wanting it to happen. I knew Chris would try really hard but that Jack would win fairly easily (I have seen him lose once, to one of the most unassuming guys I know, who’s much bigger than Chris and who used to be a star athlete, but even that felt like an upset to everyone there) and it would be awkward for a second in a way that I hate male-on-male awkwardness about physical prowess and winning and losing, even if it is just for a second and then everyone laughs it off. So I walked to the other end of the bar.
And they arm wrestled, and people whooped and hollered (we’re not really an arm-wrestling bunch, so this was kind of a novelty), and Jason did win after something of a struggle, and it was a little awkward, and the whole thing gave me the heebie jeebies. It made me feel embarrassed for both of them and just kind of grossed out even though everyone else seemed to be having a good time and Chris took his loss like a man and Jason (whoops, I mean Jack) was humble in victory. So am I just a big sissy or what? Arm wrestling, for me, is the worst kind of male human superiority-claiming activity (just ahead of money-having and business-owning). It’s irrelevant, boastful, power-grabby, yuckiness.
But speaking of segues, that makes me think of the element that, beyond my physical limitations, has most prevented me from excelling in sports (Unlike some people around here, I was a second stringer in soccer, second doubles in tennis in high school. I grew late, became became a better athlete during college, playing basketball on the mean streets of NYC, but that’s another story.). Often, if I’m competing against a person I like in a sport, a person who doesn’t seem to want to beat me to prove something, to hold something over me, to feel BETTER than me – and I’m better at the given sport than he (or sometimes she) is, or I’m just having a good day on the court or field, I negate my good play, make some comment about how lucky I’m getting or gosh I haven’t shot like this in forever. In that situation, I really don’t want to win, and, often, my play then deteriorates, sometimes to the point of losing, which I also equally don’t want to do. Ending up losing to someone I’m better than sucks, but then again so does the embarrassment of beating a friend who really didn’t want to lose either.
Now if I dislike my opponent, or if he or she is ultracompetitive with me, then it’s a different story. Then I want to win, but in wanting to win, often I tighten up, don’t play well at all (This is true for poker as well as sports, come to think of it.). So I play my best when I’m relaxed, not focused on winning, but when I’m relaxed I don’t want to win. And when I want to win, I perform badly – I think the term is “choke,” no? So how do I become a winner, people?, riddle me that! Winners win!
You know, I take it back, don’t answer that. I don’t want to be a winner, I just want winning and losing to be moot. That is, I don’t want to be a winner, I want to be a socialist! I want us all to be socialists! Winning based on merit (meritocracy), be said merit “intelligence” or physical beauty or athletic prowess, etc., is as illegitimate as anything else, as I see it. Should the less strong males lose? The less comely females? Should the less intelligent eat less sumptuous food, sleep in less comfortable beds? I say no! Welcome to my new blog, The Nature of All Things and Its Discontents.
