Courtship Behaviors of the Intimidated Male

This is pure commentary, keep that in mind at all times.

I'm at school. I'm standing. This generally means I'm smoking a cigarette, because if I'm not smoking a cigarette or getting lunch, I'm walking. I have this bizarre habit of walking when I'm trying to kill time. It's like pacing at home. For whatever reason, I can think while I'm walking, so I walk. People don't talk to me when I walk.

Ok. So I'm standing somewhere, at school. Somebody ambles up. They strike up a conversation. We're at school, so the initial how-are-yous-who-the-hell-are-yous invariably turn to what's-your-major. They're probably in business. I'm a philosophy major, I say. Then I wait. One of three things will happen, ordered by common occurrence:

1) Oh, you're a philosophy major. You know, I always loved phil-o-so-phy. [That's how they say it. Totally draw those precious syllables out.] I always loved thinking about how reality isn't necessarily what it is, you know? I mean, that's crazy.

Guys assume that because you're a philosophy major you're attracted to intelligent men. Which, obviously. Maybe it's not that so much as that they're willing to project themselves into this idea of what they think you think an intelligent man looks like. And, ok. I know a lot of incredibly intelligent men. I have a dear friend who got his degree in what amounts to "rocket science" from MIT. But do we TALK about engineering when we're together? No. Not so much. Is his long-time girlfriend an engineer? Nope. Not a whit.

That said, philosophers do have an edge. Still, there's another approach:

2) Oh, you're one of THOSE people. [Ouch. Thanks, buddy.] Don't you think philosophy's kind of ridiculous? I mean, you just sit around all day and talk about things. Now, business, that's an interesting field....

These chaps aren't quite as endearing as the first group. They still think you want an intelligent man, but instead of trying to make themselves seem smarter, they try to convince YOU that you're not really as smart as you think you are. This allows them to either a) open up the possibility that you've realized the truth about yourself and run into their open arms or b) if you reject their phone number, as you surely will in about ten seconds, they can rest assured that you weren't really interesting in the first place.

Last group:

3) Cool. I'm blahbiddy-blahbiddy-blah. How do you like philosophy?

There you go. That's my cue, because then I get to tell them how little I know about philosophy, but that it's great because you can be any kind of philosopher, and I can tell them about how ethics makes me drowsy and how I knew it was love when I realized I could be a scientist and a philosopher AT THE VERY SAME TIME. And then they can tell me about neural networks, or physics, or whatever the hell they're into that day, and I can learn something too.

Of course, I never date these people, either, because I think I'm allergic to dating, but I can least have a good conversation and sometimes we even stick as friends. It's really the only way to act intelligently, regardless of your IQ: open to new ideas, willing to learn, trying to think about things and asking questions. There are no power-plays; it's Idea Land, pure and simple.

I loaned out a book recently to a friend who possibly wanted to take a philosophy class next term. I didn't say anything when I lent it to him; I wasn't trying to give him any strange ideas or pass off the book as THE TOME OF ALL BEING but later, when he said he was having a hard time reading it at first, I had to go back and give him an instruction: just read. Don't even try to comprehend, or get frustrated, just read. If anything was interesting, read it again. If not, life is short, read a different book.

I think I've been guilty of making this same mistake, too, but neophytes such as me always want that "click" that tells you you know what you're doing, that you understand. That's why math is great: you get it or you don't. But with philosophy, when you try so hard to comprehend the details you miss the gigantor idea-fruit that the author's actually offering forward for you to enjoy or inspect. If you can grasp just the idea (and you still care), you'll want to know the specifics: how do you propose this actually works? and that's where the rest of the work comes in (all those... words!).

I don't know when philosophers got such a reputation as being judgmental toward others (except that they have to be, by profession, judgmental to ideas). Believe me, I know what getting clobbered feels like, but usually it's in an effort to better my own thinking and reveal my own mistakes, not to make me feel small and insignificant (although it works for that, too, in a pinch). I guess the point that I'm trying to make - which isn't at all related to the point I was going to make fifteen minutes ago - is that there's nothing to be afraid of. Philosophy can be totally nebulous if you look at it that way, but then I guess so can science-in-any-form if you're in a group of philosophy majors (don't even get me started - philos shrink with the violets, too).

But really it's just a method; just throw it on something and see what happens.

Oh. Also... nobody really cares.