I don’t really know why I was recommended this book, because I’ve spent a lot of time with self-reflection and study just to be familiar with myself, and I’ve also spent most of my life being single. This was initially due to incompetence, but later on transformed into discretion. I’m pretty certain that many women would find me inscrutable: the only thing I have added into my arsenal is that I’m a lot fitter than many other nerds. But I’ve always loved challenging literature, critically-acclaimed film, and attractive women who are intellectual deserts (note the spelling!) have never been my cup of tea.
My intimation of a partner is someone who is not going to complete me, or like everything that I like. That’s a fantasy. I would like a partner who is my equal but also independent from me. I have my own thing, she has hers, but we’d share a life together, aging gracefully, probably working out together, and then nerding out at other points while living a free life.
In Gabor Mate’s Myth of Normal, he identifies that there are two psychological needs of humans: attachment and authenticity. Many people live highly problematic lives because they are sacrificing this authenticity for the sake of attachment. Years before, I was a lot more pacific with my own opinions and Facebook posts, but I realized it is much better to be truly authentic and be liked for what I am, and what I am is inconsistent with most people here where I live.
This book asks: “how many shows or movies have you seen where the protagonist doesn’t find love and is still happy?” Maybe this author just hasn’t seen the masterpieces I’ve seen, because in Hamaguchi’s Drive My Car or in Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, it was authenticity that saw them joy, even despite a lack of romance.
The thing with a lot of people nowadays is that they whine about having standards without trying their best to fulfill these standards they set for themselves. They’re obese, but they want a fit partner. Ultimately, man is a hypocrite, but it would do us much better to minimize this hypocrisy. I want to avoid this for myself, so I have never stopped exercising: when I got injured, I started strength training. I try to practice the discipline I seek in a partner. But as long as I work on myself and do what I need to improve, I think I will be able to attract a counterpoise in my life.
I’ve largely been insulated from popular pursuits because I have always been peculiar. I would rather have the complete Palmtex Super Micro set (look it up!) than have a PS5. The gist of this book seems to be that to be able to love others, you have to like yourself first. I mean, obviously. That’s why I keep reading because I love being more knowledgeable and having taste (like not voting for BBM for the clout). I like working out because I don’t want to be fat and unhealthy. I eat disciplined and fast because I like fitness. My problem isn’t that I don’t know what I want – it’s that I know what I want, and what I want is quite rare today.
So this book isn’t really that applicable to me, because the author advocates acting stupid (and being stupid at times). Since I’ve been past that phase, and I have read better books on psychology written by Erich Fromm and Rollo May, this seems to be a more diffuse and unfocused rehash. I don’t advocate experimentation and “learning” from it, because that’s the bitterest source of knowledge. I would rather advocate observation, as Confucius does, because it’s difficult but hurts the least. I also think that a thorough self-analysis is better than testing oneself on other people, but this is where one’s mileage varies.
This is probably because I have great parents and a good childhood. I was blessed to have a wonderful family dynamic that celebrated intellectual competence, so I had the privilege of observation. This book works for people with less healthy families and people coping with that, but this book isn’t for me. I don’t experiment for the sake of it: I know drugs are bad for me, tattoos are not my thing, and I don’t have to have them just to know they’re not for me.
“But you’re in your late thirties and unmarried, you don’t have kids, and you drive a Honda. Most likely, you are not happy” – wait, this isn’t true for me. I’m in my late thirties, I don’t want to marry just anyone, and I don’t want kids. This is what I want, and why this book is stupid. There is no theoretical basis for its go-getter claims, and I really have little trust on a therapist who doesn’t look before he leaps.