The Gamma Megathread
04-27-2018, 01:53 AM
Aurini will like this:
I've long trying to toss up whether Gamma is a personality type in and of itself, or if the resulting personality was due to - potentially-programmable - childhood psychological damage.
My Gamma Stepfather had a massive emotional breakdown over New Years that ended up with him being hospitalized. As I previously wrote, he was acting very strange before and after Christmas in his pursuit of Would-Be New Mommy.
After his reveal of his pattern of creepy-stalker behaviour with ill women in the process of breaking up with their partner, I had many discussions with my girlfriend about exactly where I could go with him from here in our relationship.
The conclusion I arrived at was that I had to be able to forgive him, because it was obvious WBNM wouldn't be interested when he did make his play, and someone would have to be there to clean up the mess.
So when I got the call from the Hospital, I figured things had gone south, so hurried up there and ran into my sister in the car park. She said she wasn't entirely-sure what happened.
"I'd say he made a play for [WBNM], and then she popped his bubble by refusing him."
She nodded. "He doesn't understand women. Some guys think if you're nice to them it means you're, you know, interested. You're just being nice." (She had many Gamma Stalkers in High School, and one who persisted through most of her twenties).
I sighed. "I bet the words 'I'm sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea' were used."
"I only see you as a friend."
We steeled ourselves and walked towards the Mental Health wing, and I explained that he'd been playing on our mother's death for sympathy from this woman, and, because of that, he'd created a phantasm of the experience being far worse than it was. I'm not saying the death was easy, or pretty, just that it was, realistic, cruel human suffering. He'd been milking it, which, in his mind, turned it into an exaggerated phantasm: it was now the worst kind of suffering that had ever happened to anyone in the history of existence. Doing this, he'd forget that my mother would make jokes about her hair falling out from Chemo, threaten to haunt us if we gave eulogies, or said "I'm sure [my grandfather] is down there, looking up at us."
So yeah, there was bad moments there, but also, a lot of good moments.
Obviously, he created a bullshit reality, hung his salvation upon a relationship with WBNM, and, when rejected - since no woman, let alone an ill one who already has a husband and a kid wants to take on board an emotionally-weak man - he had nothing left to fall back on.
Hence, loony bin.
Eventually we got to talk to him, and he seemed OK, if highly-medicated. He recognised he was in a bad place and seemed happy that he would be getting help going forward. I noticed he was evasive when actually discussing what had happened. He just said he "went crazy", and said he guessed he hadn't really dealt with my mother's death.
As we sat there, the topic of conversation had moved onto other topics, when as is his Gamma Way, he suddenly leapt back into the conversation from a few minutes earlier.
In an oh-so-casual, faux-apropos of nothing manner, he said "... and I don't know if [WBNM] will ever forgive me."
My Sister and I shot a knowing glance to each other, that said "Yep. She was there. He made a play. Was shot down. Gamma Rage." Later, she said "What do you think he said to her?"
"At least 'Bitch'."
She sighed. "I don't know. I think it would have been more pathetic. He would have begged and cried."
I pictured snot coming out of his nose. Look, it's not that we don't care about him, we just have a realistic understanding of what he is.
Anyway, they put him on a diet and exercise regime, regular anti-depressants and weekly sessions with a psychologist, (unfortunately, female, so I'm hoping he won't fixate on her next). He needed continual care there for a while, but then it got to the stage he could be left alone again, and I didn't see him for a couple of weeks due to some issues Bill and I have been having dealing with a mutual alcoholic friend.
He turned up, unannounced, around dinner time, as he has a habit of doing, a couple of weeks ago when my Sister was visiting. We'd all had a damn busy day on a big project, but I'd thrown some Lamb Shanks in the Slow Cooker about 7 that morning, and my Sister and I were just discussing mashing some potatoes to go with it - Bill said you 'have to have potatoes with lamb shanks' - when my girlfriend said / audibly-winced "Your stepfather is parking out the front."
My sister groaned. "Well, he won't stay for dinner. I'm sure you've heard the Lamb Shanks Rant?"
"Yeah," I said. He has this rehearsed play he rattles off should anyone ever dare to mention Lamb Shanks in his vicinity. I know it by heart by now. They're not real food. On the farm you gave them to the dogs. Why would anyone pay good money for them? Blah gamma blah.
Gammas have a habit of doing this kind of thing on particular topics, not understanding that no-one has asked or cares about their opinion, particularly, when as in this case, you're insulting someone who is talking about cooking them, because, for the rest of the world, fashions change. The tell is that the opinion never changes or takes into account new information. It's more like an unfunny stand up routine they launch into, not understanding you've already heard the non-joke.
He came in, invited himself to stay for dinner, and made no comment when he was presented the Lamb Shanks. He ate them, and obviously enjoyed them, even sucking out the bone marrow.
He didn't constantly try to make himself the center of attention. He let others speak. He could keep up with the flow of conversation rather than steering it back to a couple of minutes ago, where he was more comfortable. He asked my girlfriend how her life was going. He listened to people, instead of waiting for his moment to talk. When he was corrected, he seemed interested in what he didn't know, rather than trying to make out that he already knew it, or sulking. He talked to them, not at them.
After he left, we all sat quietly. My girlfriend spoke first: "Who was that?"
"I'm not sure," my sister said. "Is it the medication?"
Bill - who despises him - said "He's more betterer. Like he's been unfuckwitted."
My sister leant closer to me. "Did you notice he didn't mention [WBNM] once?"
Bill snorted. "It's like whoever dropped him on his head as a kid finally picked him up."
Flash forward to yesterday, my girlfriend was going to help her father and Bill had asked me to mix cement for him all day for him due to his usual cement guy having taken the Cask Wine Train to Dysfunction Junction.
Since it was short notice, and my girlfriend wouldn't be back, I remembered I still had some lamb shanks in the freezer, so took 10 minutes before I left in the morning to toss it all together into the slow cooker. At least it would be a hot meal waiting for us when we returned.
Which we did, dirty and sore. We showered up, and I went to cut up some potatoes when my girlfriend rang saying she was coming home early after all. Since I always prepare extra - people have a habit of dropping in at my place in town - I said I'd throw extra potato on.
Just as I was dishing it out, my Stepdad turned up, and, as tired as we all were, we figured, ok, we can put up with him.
Nope.
Although it didn't stop him shoving it in his mouth, we got the Lamb Shanks Rant. He criticized the cut, saying the bones are so much longer in a true Lamb Shank, like anyone has pans, or ovens, or pots that could possibly fit an untrimmed bone. He suddenly became The Expert On Cooking Lamb Shanks, despite having never cooked them that I've seen, and how much better he would have made the dish than me, because I used tinned chickpeas (in a 10 minute prep meal made on the spur of the moment) and that I didn't use enough Mint, (understanding Bill has reflux, I went easy on it), and despite not even knowing what the dish was.
He talked over everyone, and wouldn't listen.
He suddenly wouldn't shut up about making some kind of Vegetarian Meal. I pointed at my kitchen bookshelf, which holds about 70+ cookbooks from all eras and said, "Take your pick." But no, it now became vitally-important that he discuss his need to cook a vegetarian meal at great length, until I figured "Oh fuck, this is a WBNM thing, isn't it?"
I pointed at the bookshelf. "Any of the post 80's books will have Vegetarian sections".
He was now fixated on chickpeas, and discussing 'chickpea research' on which are supposed to be the most popular based on taste tests. (I tried his suggestion once when he'd done THAT particular rant in the past. I didn't see any detectable difference to the standard 9mm ones I buy that made it worth the extra expense and effort of tracking down these super special exclusive chickpeas, when they're, at best, a filler anyway).
Bill, wanting him to STFU, dropped two Vegetarian cookbooks books from the shelves in front of him, as he continued to obsess over the 'right' vegetarian recipes, despite 'The Complete Vegetarian Cookbook' and '150 Fast Vegetarian Meals' sitting right in front of him.
Gammas gonna Gamma.
Eventually, the motivation behind his vegetarian obsession became clear. WBNM had decided to stay with her kid and husband - whose lack of apparent emotional care obviously-provides her with the kind of obsession-causing tingles my Stepfather could never hope to generate in her.
He now wanted to invite them both over for dinner and cook a meal for them.
I groaned inwardly. Give it the fuck up, dude.
Bill said he was 'going out back for a smoke'.
It got worse. It turns out SHE isn't a vegetarian, the husband is. This is all about proving what a good guy he is to cook a special meal for her husband, thinking that will make her respect his kindness and reward him with sex, instead of thinking he's a massive, subservient pussy to the alpha male.
I don't think there's anything you can cook with Eggplant and Chickpeas that will guarantee that kind of delusional reward.
My girlfriend tried to explain why that wasn't a good idea, and it got weird from there. He said this was about 'caring' for 'a friend', and, turning to me, said I was "too selfish to understand".
As my girlfriend said later, "You visited him every day in hospital last year during his knee surgery, drove him to physio, and did his cooking, cleaning and shopping."
"I bought him a fridge for next to his desk and a spare kettle so he wouldn't have to walk so far in the first few days at home to make coffee."
"You picked up his prescriptions."
"I rubbed cream into his feet each evening for a week, because he was in too much pain to bend that far."
"You nursed him for two weeks in January and didn't leave him alone. It's like he doesn't see."
Of course he doesn't, he's Gamma. If you don't give them what they want in the moment, you're the selfish arsehole who only thinks of themselves.
Things went downhill from there - every sentence became about WBNM - until I eventually had to say to him, "Did you take your tablets today?"
"I forgot it last night before bed, but it doesn't matter."
We made our excuses and said we were going to have an early night - him "No apple crumble?" - and got rid of him, with me thinking I should possibly check in with the doctor in the morning, and maybe I should track down WBNM and, for everyone's sake, tell her to cut off all contact with him.
My girlfriend, after he was gone. "As yummy as they are, promise me you'll never cook Lamb Shanks again."
Bill, was more blunt, "Whenever it's getting near to dinner time, lock the bloody gate, turn off the outside lights and shut all the curtains."
Mustering up all my patience and forgiveness - if they're virtues, i'm about to sprout wings - I rang him the next day, trying to figure out the best way to say something that wouldn't trigger Fixated Gamma Resentment over criticism.
Instead, he surprised me, and said he realised "I was out of control last night," and that he didn't understand until he "took his tablet." He'd learnt that "I can't miss even one."
It's horrific to consider both what he is, and what he could be, and understand one daily pill is all that stands between functional and destructive social behaviour.
Even more intriguingly, it seems you can medicate the Gamma out of a man.
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