The play is called ‘Death of a Salesman,’ aired in 1949. As the curtains fall, there is silence in the audience. Silence for a brief moment. A heartbeat. As if the people are taking in what they have just seen. Then, applause, as people stand up. But amidst that applause are men who remain seated. Men who, after the people pay more attention, are realized to be crying. These men can’t stop crying. It is said that they are taken to hospital, still crying. The main character in the play - the salesman - had a devoted wife. Two sons. A house. Things that would be an accomplishment today. But he also had grand dreams. Dreams of what a successful salesman was. What a successful salesman ought to be. And with regards to these dreams, the salesman was none of these things. His sales numbers were shit. As a result, he had lost his job. He was borrowing money to keep up appearances. He was cheating on his wife. His sons were disappointments to him. Mainly because he placed those same grand ideas on his sons. And his sons rebelled against them. Against the ideas, not the man. And in the end, in order to leave something behind for his family, he takes his last drive into the abyss, so that they can get an insurance payout. A good one. And the salesman was no more. No one has ever been able to verify this story. But it’s a good story. As Hannibal says, all sorrows can be borne if you put them in a story.
The Desire to be Seen.
People post birthday messages to friends - and themselves - on their statuses, even though they have direct access to them. People do this, then complain that they have too many birthday messages to reply to. People post pictures of trips they had. They know that it doesn’t matter to the majority of the people who see the posts. But we want those people to see anyway. Whether implicitly or explicitly. Men get toys. Whether that be cars or watches. Whatever. Because toys are a signifier of status. And status is the easiest path towards access. Especially access to the elusive cotton candy. It’s the same reason women push out thirst traps - I won’t go into it, but y’all know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. At the center of all the things we do, is the fundamental desire to be seen.
And the funny thing is that this desire isn’t just aimed towards the opposite sex. It’s intra-sex too. Men flash their toys to other men just as much as they do to women. It earns us clout, with men and women equally. Status has benefits that far outstrip conquering Majin Buu. Women, I’ve been told, wear make-up for both the opposite sex and the pressures of their own sex. Being seen is not a men or women thing. It’s a people thing. It’s different and the same at the same damn time.
To be Seen Correct.
But it’s not enough to be seen. You have to be seen correctly. We all obsess over this. It’s why people - men especially - rarely show feelings. It’s a show of weakness. Not just to other men, but to women too (no matter what y’all say to the contrary). It’s because even if we do show feelings, people usually don’t have the tools to know what to do with them. Not men, because they haven’t been taught this. And not women, because she’s probably never been in this situation before - her dad was stoic, her brothers are too. And trust me, people will hate you for putting them in a situation where they don’t know what to do. And that’s too costly a situation for most people. There are only three situations where men are allowed to openly express emotion: at a funeral of a loved one, when his child is born, and maybe, maybe, when he gets married. Otherwise, he cries in private.
That’s why we don’t post pictures when we’ve just woken up. No. It has to be when we’re all perked up. Looking fine as fuck. Even if it means digging through photos from a year ago to repost. It’s why the beauty industry is so big - heck, Kylie’s a billionaire. It’s why the second richest guy in the world owns a luxury brand. Its why guys are getting their legs broken to be taller. Flashing their toys around, then complaining the women they get are superficial. Its why women are getting BBLs. Then spend the rest of their lives telling guys not to touch.
Of Relatives and Absolutes.
Absolutes exist only in the hard sciences. The temperature of space is absolute zero. Everything decays. Gravity is the curvature of space. These are absolutes that hold relatively well no matter the context. But anything that involves any kind of social structure is built on relatives. Because society, at its core, is governed by the rule of relatives. It’s how people are related to each other, whether through the color of their skin, or their geographical location. It’s how people relate to each other. Do they have shared beliefs. Maybe shared resources. Maybe shared interests. Unless you are a sociopath, or decide to fuck off into the cabin in the woods (which kind of makes you a sociopath), then all your interactions will be relative.
Whatever part of the social hierarchy you find yourself in, you’ll never be a lone giant or a singular dwarf. The comparison game will always exist. And there will always be a desire towards more. We are social creatures. For us, everything has been, and always will be, relative. Men exist in a state of silent competition. It’s covert. But it’s always there, no matter how much we pretend it isn’t. Toys are only awesome when only a few have them. If everyone has them, then it’s like the air we breathe. It’s there, but no one cares about it. We pretend not to care about status games. But even not caring is a status game in itself. Whether rich by a society’s standards, or poor by the same, we are all playing the game. We are all prisoners of relativity.
To be Seen as Important.
What’s the end game of all this wanting to be seen? Why huff and puff so much? I think, at the core, is that we are chasing the feeling of being needed. That’s it. To be needed. Because to be needed is to be seen. To be needed, then you have to be deemed important. Whether it’s to one person, to a group of people, or to a whole population, that is what is at the core. Maybe that’s why there is all this talk of the crisis of masculinity (I’m a perpetrator). Because for the first time in history, man is either being told or is realizing that he isn’t needed anymore. Not like he used to be needed before. Not like his father was. His role model is now considered toxic. He has no frame of reference for what to be. Maybe it’s why some of them are walking away. Maybe that’s why some are just bouncing around, causing the ballooning of single parent households. Not until he finds that one person who needs him. Wants him.
Why do I post these articles to people who might barely care about them? Why do I put them on LinkedIn and my status? Knowing very well that there’s a chance that something I’ve said here might/will be used to crucify me in the future. Why have a blog, where I touch on controversy here and there, under my name? Why not use something ambiguous, so that it’s harder to trace back to me? Why? For the thin chance that I do something that is beyond me. For the slight chance that I do something that matters. That’s my grand idea. And maybe, that idea, like that of the salesman, is going to be the death of me.