"...the Beta Male gene has survived not by meeting and overcoming adversity, but by anticipating and avoiding it. That is, when the Alpha Males were out charging after mastodons, the Beta Males could imagine in advance that attacking what was essentially an angry, woolly bulldozer with a pointy stick might be a losing proposition, so they hung back at camp to console the grieving widows."
from "A Dirty Job" by Christopher Moore
Any grieving widows in the crowd?
"Like the saber-toothed tiger's fangs, or the Alpha Male's testosterone, there's just more Beta Male imagination than can really be put to good use. Consequently, a lot of Beta Males become hypochondriacs, neurotics, paranoids, or develop an addiction to porn or video games."
again... "A Dirty Job" by C.M.
It's the neurotic/paranoid part that always sinks me.
Always.
I'm trying very hard to not let it rear its ugly head this time around. I'd like a little more than a grim chance at survival with this woman. She's smart, funny, worldly, and unbelievably beautiful. She's lived everywhere and seen everything. I'm a slug from a small farming town in Ohio. I finally packed up at age thirty, and moved to Portland... where I've holed up in an apartment, barely exploring my new home in the year-and-however-many-months that I've lived here.
She can do better.
She probably will in a matter of short time. She's new in town and doesn't know very many people. The more she comes in contact with, the more likely I'll fall by the wayside. I'm afraid to even introduce her to the few friends that I have... they are all vultures ready to descend.
A healthy dose of the defeatist attitude you want? By God, it's a healthy dose of defeatist attitude I've got...
I actually used to be an optimist. I was quite good at it. I kept the faith through some seriously fucked up situations. I kept the faith much longer than any rational human should. Slowly, but surely, I came around to the notion of the half empty glass of life. It makes more sense. Any time I begin to think that things will actually go alright for a change, I have only the mirror to remind me. I have scars. You can't see them, but I can. There are plenty of them in my eyes. I look into those eyes every morning before work, and every night before bed...hundreds of scars.
Poke me, prod me, make me speak... I've decided that the opinions that matter are those of genuinely good people who probably won't judge me as harshly as I judge myself. So I'll spill my guts...I'll show a few scars... hopefully, you all understand.
</ALCOHOL FUELED BEARING OF SOUL>
And no matter what you tell me about how you're feeling, I'm not going to think less of you.