Mr. Klosterman, a word?

So, What?

In 2003, Chuck Klosterman wrote a book called, “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs,” that I, at the tender age of 25, quickly became obsessed with. In fact, I’m sure it occupied some high value profile visibility on MySpace, or maybe even my Friendster account. The first chapter, “This Is Emo,” did something to me. First, it was a chapter that heavily referenced 1980’s pop culture and John Hughes’ films are a major part of my formative years. There is little in the world that I like to do more than to dissect pop culture, personal ethics and philosophy, and world events around drinks (coffee, wine, whiskey, tea, I’m not picky). Reading this first chapter was like capturing one of those conversations in time and allowing me to revisit it over and over. Second, it made me believe I too, could write. And third, the reason I’m sat here typing, it reframed my way of seeing romance; A fact that I both love, and hate. While what I’m writing here is a moderately staunch rebuttal to Mr. Klosterman’s clever thoughts and witty writing - I quite enjoy that he was able to tickle my brain in this way - and while I disagree with so much of what he writes, I live for playful debate, so that disagreement is in no way a bad thing. It’s how critical thinking works, and I love having my mind changed, or at least stimulated.

Chuck’s thesis goes a little something like this; People have hyper-romanticized their potential love lives due to the massive influence of media at large. He’s not totally wrong, and he doesn’t lay it solely at the feet of our collective everyman hero Lloyd Dobbler but he certainly does name names and cast some aspersions. He also includes musical influences, like Coldplay. And while I accept these observations and am willing to bat them around in my mind like a kitty with their favorite new catnip-infused toy, there is a Godzilla-Sized hole here, and it’s simple; So, what? (music nerd moment that becomes relevant in precisely one sentence from now: The album from which the song, “In Your Eyes,” originates is called, “So.”)

In fairness, and to his point, Peter Gabriel’s, “In Your Eyes,” has woven itself into the fabric of my cellular makeup (told ya). That’s what art is supposed to do. It moves us, inspires us, it changes our lives even if it’s only on a small scale sometimes. When I hear, “In Your Eyes,” the world around me mutes. Suddenly I’m romanticizing everything! I go to a place where I’m either loving or being loved by a pure soul who wants nothing more than to mirror integrity and love and greatness. That’s incredibly powerful stuff. The combination of a moving picture and a song that I watched and re-watched for years can completely rip me from the grotesque reality of The United States in 2026, and dump me into this fantasy that both soothes, and invigorates me. Magic*.

So, let’s dig deeper and bring this theory into the 2020’s, shall we? There was no, “manosphere,” in 2003. Tradwives at that time were relegated to fundamentalist freak show status and nobody would fathom that cosplaying one on iPhone apps would be a potential vocation choice. In fact, iPhones, were four years away from even being introduced to the public at this time. I don’t think Chuck’s thoughts were intended to be malicious by any stretch of the imagination, but I do believe that an extrapolation would have been a fun thought experiment at the time, and I never got that chance. Which leads me here to ask the ever-pressing question I’ve longed to hear the answer to since 2003; “So, what?”

So, what if I want to be loved by a partner who’s an aspiring kickboxer and has a massive aversion to the corporate slog of life? So, what if I want a partner who is kind, and silly, and moderately poetic in a phone booth while it’s raining? “I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen!” Is that threatening? Is it hard to be nice? Is having an expectation of a romantic partner too much to ask? What is the impetus amongst men that makes them so reluctant to be kind and generous to the people they claim to like or, (alpha-gods-be-damned), love? Is it beta to show your partner affection? I’m sure there’s a mega-fan out there who HAS asked that her partner, or potential partner, stand outside with a boombox, trench-coated, blasting Peter Gabriel into her window, (for nerd accuracy I am obliged to add: This was the window of Diane Court’s father’s fraudulent nursing home, btw, not her bedroom.), but for most of the population, we don’t want a carbon copy. What we want is the effort. We simply want someone who gives enough of a shit to go out of their way to let us know that we matter in their lives and if that’s asking too much, the male loneliness epidemic suddenly makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it?

In 2003, I read Chuck’s theory and thought it was clever. I could see how it might be a drain on men to have this lofty expectation of an idealized naturally romantic and artistic man, who lest we forget, is also an athlete, over their heads. But by the same token, we’re women. We’re built of empathy and have layers upon layers of empathy-adjacent characteristics conditioned into us our whole lives. We are trained to excuse bad behavior by our male counterparts from birth. “Boys will be boys,” y’all. This conditioning also contributes to why I didn’t question this more deeply upon first read. I didn’t need the assist, Chuck. I was already sympathetic. Then I started to notice the men I knew who read Chuck’s work were feeling legitimized in being soft, selfish, apathetic, unsympathetic loaves of men, whose wry smiles received an injection of emboldened - albeit quiet at the time - smugness, and we have the origin story of my beef.

What is it fellas? Why is it so hard to be nice? The only thing I could think of, initially was the frailty of a bruised ego. Which I will admit, is no small thing, but is that all you got? Is it because your friends might make fun of you? Have you ever played out that scenario in your head? Because here’s how I see it:

You, (the man I’m speaking to right now), go out of your way to do something nice for a woman. It can go one of two ways. The first, she’s receptive. That just sounds like a bold-move-win if you ask me. Happy Days! The less savory path being she isn’t, in fact, receptive. Then what? And it all comes back to; who cares? You shot your shot, right? You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

I’m still at a loss to identify where the problem lies. Have you become so risk averse that the mere thought of someone’s agency not aligning with your wishes is so terrifying, that it will catapult the kindness straight out of you? I thought that in engaging with you we were dealing with the strong ones? Potential rejection doesn’t change the fact that you saw the thing you wanted, and you went after it, respectfully. You still did the damn thing and that’s worthy of admiration. Any clowns mockery isn’t worthy of you owning said mockery. Who has time or energy in 2026 to mock someone for trying to get what they want with sincerity and confidence? Is it a control thing? You must be in control of everything and how things play out? Again, why? None of us can control the outcomes when it involves the agency of another party.

These are all questions we need to be aware of and asking ourselves, rather than succumbing to the projected pain hurled by the loudest dolt who might have a sick burn he’s been working on for weeks, because here’s the thing; Earnestness is hot. Plain and simple. It might not always get you what you want but being honest and making the effort is undeniably sexy and desirable. And getting what you want? Even hotter! You can’t control chemistry. There’s no way to guarantee that just because you try, you will get. But without trying you will certainly miss, and even if her bar is set so low that you fortunately snag her without trying, wait until your buddy slides into her DM’s just to prove he can. We can’t control outcomes, and that’s the entire point. That’s what makes life interesting and dynamic and worthwhile.

So, no, Chuck Klosterman, as much as I do love a good brain tickling, I will respectfully not allow the cynicism of 2003 to destroy my desire for a good, honorable, fun partner, who goes the extra mile to make me feel special. Which for the record, I would LOVE to be able to feel seen enough to reciprocate. And I won’t apologize for not only desiring, but demanding romance in my life. We sometimes forget that Lloyd Dobbler was a borderline unemployable aspiring KICKBOXER! In the parlance of those times, he was a devout slacker! And somehow, Mr. Klosterman managed to frame even that bar as too high. Lovable Lloyd was a precursor to the MMA hyper masculine mean boys who fetishize cruelty. Who’d’a thunk it? Loving something incredibly deeply, to the point that you feel sick over it isn’t weakness, it’s the most courageous and honorable thing a person can do. Too bad there’s a sizable faction of the population who are so scared of it, they’ll physically harm themselves, each other, and oftentimes engage in criminal activity against women rather than simply face themselves and ask questions like, “Why can’t I just be nice? What’s holding me back?” Because I promise, it’s not women writ large.

*“In Your Eyes,” would be in the very top echelon of options for holding the position of Kate Bush’s, “Running Up That Hill,” that Max survives on in “Stranger Things.” Truth be told, it’s probably “Love My Way,” by The Psychedelic Furs, but for the purposes of this writing, I’ll allow some runners-up – no pun intended.