The Magic: the Gathering® Guy and That One Chick
September 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
So, no one who is possibly reading this post has not heard about this:
The girl who went out with a guy off OKC, found out he was a world champion Magic: the Gathering® player, was ostensibly appalled and wrote a Gizmodo article about how she was stunned and it’s a huge dealbreaker and etc.
Couple things. First, as Forbes was quick to point out, of course this is an obvious troll. This woman, desperate to make a living in the non-lucrative world of blog writing, has just said “fuck it,” you know, I need something that gets a million hits. So I’m gonna write about how I’m a chick who was appalled to date a nerd, thus getting the two commentingist, complainingest groups on the planet to catch fire over my article. Chicks and nerds.
And second, yes, ultimately her beef is bullshit, the fact that he’s the world champion Magic: the Gathering® player being a huge dealbreaker and etc. I mean, millions of people play Magic: the Gathering®. It’s not really that big a deal to be a nerd anymore; it’s just its own subculture. It’s not quite a sexy one like punk rocker or whatever but it’s its own thing and nerds can get laid now. So at face value her point is really bitchy, and her whole hedging about getting on Okcupid in the first place—her whole thinly-veiled I’m-too-good-for-this thing– while, again, a deliberate troll, well, yes, it’s twatty. She is a twat, and she should be called a twat. So Sharon Bezefrnak or whateverthefuck your name is, you are a twat.
BUT people are failing to read between the lines here. Because people are getting hung up on the Magic-being-the-dealbreaker thing and not looking at her whole description of the date. Which—he is a hedge fund manager. Only two kinds of people do this– drunken date rapist frat boys, and cold, Aspergian number-crunching nerds. Of course he is the latter. He manages a hedge fund, but he is not the smooth guy out there hobnobbing with the nephew of the Sultan of Brunei over martinis at the titty bar, convincing him through camaraderie to sink $200 million of oil money into a Brazilian ruby mining concern with high upside potential. There is some other guy, probably a lacrosse player of some kind, who does this, while Jon Finkel sits back in a cramped office with one buzzing florescent light and pores over 12,000 page excel spreadsheets looking for some curvilinear regression formula that will add .0002 cents 8 times out of ten to the result of an equation with 47 variables. Or coming up with some piece of code that will robotically act on some stock price information transmitted from the Nikkei to make 4,000 fake transactions per second that it stops short of actually executing so it can artificially drive up the price of Philippine corn commodities by one one thousandth of a penny a million times per day. You know he is this guy, because he plays Magic: the Gathering®.
So my guess is he is some kind of socially hobbled Aspergian. And therefore I speculate that he fucked up not by dropping the Magic® bomb, but in HOW he dropped the Magic® bomb. Because there is no piece of information EVER, ANYWHERE on the planet that will make a chick recoil if you deliver it confidently, like it’s no big deal. Murder, sex offender registry, Magic®: the Gathering, whatever. I routinely tell my dates that I have to turn in early to get up for an eight hour Dungeons and Dragons session the next day. ROUTINELY. NO ONE ever has any real issue with this. Because I say it like I have no fucking problem or insecurity with it, because I have no problem or insecurity with it. Lots of girls sarcastically take the bait, go for some easy dig, and I tell them to fuck right off. I’m gonna take you home and rawdog you, and then I’m gonna get up and carefully optimize my enchanter spellbook. Because Dungeons and Dragons is fucking FUN. And I am not afraid to say so, with confidence.
So when the issue of Magic: the Gathering® came up, you KNOW he was hemming and hawing about it, or worse, he was deliberately holding it back until he could smugly declare that he was the world champion, hoping this would impress her. Either way he was THINKING about it, thinking in advance about what to do when it came up, or how to make it come up, and the fact that he even had to think shows that he was already dead to all pussy, now and forever.
Plus, he took her to a one man show about Jeffrey Dahmer. And he went on a second date with her, even though she looks like you put a wig on Albert Finney:
Which makes me think maybe the dude doesn’t have a ton of options. Nothing against him— it’s hard when you have a job and time-consuming hobbies, etc.
Anyway, yes, the chick is a twat, but they’ll get like that if you don’t man up about liking wizards. Just my two cents.