The Power Of "The Story".

My buddy and I have this phrase that we've taken to using, sort of a personal little meme that the two of us make reference to often.  It's a phenomenon that we call "The Story".

The Story is great.  It's not any specific story, but rather, sort of a conceptual representation of any given story that serves the purpose of the phenomenon.  It's the meta-story, the whole collection of all relevant stories.

The concept is, basically, this:  By openly telling someone an unsolicited, highly personal, and surprisingly candid account of some aspect of one's life (past or present) that would normally be cause for shame or guilt, one can evoke a strange sympathy or fascination in that person, enough to serve all kinds of very useful manipulative purposes.

The most basic form of The Story is the escalating confession.  Our discussions about the curious power of The Story began when I made the observation that there is an absurdly effective means of causing someone to forgive you for whatever it is they are currently angry or disapproving about.  You simply confess to something worse.  This seems almost counter-intuitive, but it's amazing to watch the effects.

When I've done something wrong, or been found out in some unpleasantness, and a friend or lover or other associate is now upset with me, judging me harshly, making demands or ultimatums, or attempting to sever relations with me, I've found that simply launching into a sudden bit of personal narrative about some even more ugly aspect of myself, or some specific past sin of an even more serious nature virtually always defuses their negative feelings, and causes them not only to forgive me, but to actually feel sympathy and admiration for me.

The more shameful or horrible the confession, the better this works.  It doesn't seem like it should, but oh, how it does.  It's like magic.  Now, I'm not talking about making something up.  This isn't about lying or conning someone.  It's a surgical use of truth, which is what makes it so potent.  The sincerity and vulnerability, the courage to speak out on something that nearly any person would normally wish to conceal, that's what evokes the empathy from the other, that's what makes them suddenly see your humanity.

The more hideousness you admit to, the more of a sympathetic figure you become.  I'm not even exactly sure how or why it works, but I've done it so many times and been delighted with the results.  It's almost a guaranteed outcome.  Someone's mad at me, I've hurt them, they've just discovered that I'm a far less kind and noble man than they formerly believed . . . bam, break out a bit of The Story and the tables turn in the blink of an eye!

One moment you're a petty asshole who disgusts them, and the next, you're a richly complex, darkly nuanced survivor who has just stripped himself bare before them and courageously revealed some buried depths of his soul.  Now they're actually proud of you, for "coming clean" about something which must be "so difficult to talk about".  Now they feel like they've been let in, like you've entrusted them with something really meaningful.  Suddenly that silly little thing they were so worked up about a minute ago seems small and insignificant.  No wonder you did this minor wrong now . . . they had no idea you were carrying this psychic weight from being such a worse person than they suspected!  Oh, how they just want to hold you...

Heh.  The Story wins again.

Maybe some folks are clever enough to pull this off with fabrications, but I'm not that daring.  I use real material for my implementations of The Story, and it's enough.  Then again, I've also had a relatively colorful life, and the palette has contained plenty of dark hues.  In my younger days especially, I used to do a lot of things, put myself in situations, just so I could honesty say I did it, just for solid use later in The Story.  I've always found that credibility is much easier to achieve when you're actually telling the truth, and there's really no need for elaborate fictions, anyway.

Another use of The Story is in simply making yourself more interesting to someone, for all of the obvious reasons why that would be beneficial.  By parceling out small bits of The Story to someone over time, you can become progressively more and more fascinating, even if most of your interactions with them are quite unremarkable.  The Story is a great thing to throw into a conversation when you just don't have the wit, charm, or knowledge needed at the time to sufficiently engage someone.  I try to reserve it for those cases, however, sort of a backup fuel tank for when my more mundane social resources are running dry.

Have you found that despite your best efforts to be enthralling, to garner someone's attention, they just don't seem to find you particularly interesting?  Just drop some of The Story on 'em, and watch the addiction to you blossom.  You'd think that telling someone about the worst parts of you, or the most unpleasant things you've done, would push them away, make them uncomfortable with you, cause them to look down upon you, right? In rare special cases, or when handled especially poorly, it can have that effect, but really . . . almost never.  The vast majority of the time, it makes someone like you a whole lot more.  Which is bizarre, but quite lovely.

I'm not an expert on human psychology, so I really can't say why The Story works.  I just know that it does.  And it amuses me to no end.  I laugh about it, and my buddy, who is not at all sociopathic like me, can't help but laugh in a sort of head-shaking way about it, too, at the sheer ridiculousness of it.  It strikes him as very devious and manipulative, something that shady people, like myself, do.  But he finds the results ironically humorous, nonetheless.  I take great joy in it.  I get to be honest, reveal something about myself which I would ordinarily be hiding, and reap immediate rewards from it, pushing someone into a more favorable opinion of myself.

The Story has lasting value, as well.  You can always bring it back up later, make reference to it, sort of haul it out and bash someone with it whenever you need to.  Plus, once you've confessed to any given piece of your fucked up personality or past misdeeds via The Story, you've acquired a sort of de facto forgiveness or permission for whatever it is, so you don't have to worry about the person confronting you about it later on.  If you pull out your bigger guns in The Story, you can also basically count on using something like the legal concept of "lesser included offenses" to completely wave off lots of other displeasing things they may find out about you in the future, because they'll fall under the aegis of the broader, more serious truths you've already disclosed.

It's very empowering, having this confidence in my ability to spin threads of gold from my shit by way of The Story, because I don't feel afraid of my secrets, my flaws, or the stains on my past.  Instead of having to hide things, and being worried about someone finding out, I can simply hold them in my hand like a deck of cards, waiting to play them at my convenience.  Rather than feeling like my dark bits are a social burden, they become social ammunition.  I revel in those things which are the "worst" in me, in my life, because for me, they are not sources of shame or guilt -- they are delicious morsels of emotional currency, available to sway the opinions of others whenever I wish.

Somehow, I suspect that "normal" folks do not see things quite the same way, and that this, too, points to a sociopathic bent in me.  Rather than feeling remorse for what's ugliest in me, I delight in the thought of using it to manipulate others.  Using their own empathy against them, tricking them into swallowing my most bitter pills and then thanking me for the privilege.  But hey, sometimes The Story is the only way to make someone think reasonably about me, so it's only fair.

I Don't Love Anyone.

I don't experience love.  I never have.  It's a state which I recognize the theoretical existence of, and I have no problem believing that other people, even most people, do feel it and allow it to guide their actions . . . but I've never loved anyone, personally.

What do I mean by love?  Well, more or less, the whole empathetic connection to someone else, emotionally.  The real concern for someone else's well-being.  The placing of their needs or desires above my own.  The ability to feel genuine happiness solely because the other person is happy, or genuine sadness solely because the other person is sad.  The feeling of obligation to another person in a sweeping or permanent sense, beyond a limited-scope contractual situation.  The willingness to allow considerations for another person to dictate my own choices, even when those choices would inconvenience me without offering suitable reward.

I have all sorts of ideas about love.  I'm a philosophical sort, I enjoy speculating about vaguely defined and perhaps indefinable topics more than nearly any other activity.  I think that, as an ideal, love is very cool.  Maybe the best thing humans can do, experience, or strive for.  It's just . . . not possible for me.  And I'm okay with that.  I've come to terms with the simple fact that this is who I am.

Love, to me, is a selfless thing.  It's a gift thing.  It's a sharing thing.  It's about blurring or entirely erasing the line between "self" and "other".  It's saying, "Hey, I want your happiness more than anything else, more than even my own.  And I'm actually going to behave accordingly.  Because you, as a person, mean that much to me."  I think it's a beautiful concept.  But I don't function that way.  No one has ever "meant that much to me", and I do not believe that anyone ever could.  Not because I haven't met people who are "worthy" of it, but simply because it isn't in my nature to even experience that.  I just don't feel that way, not ever.

It's not really as horrible as it sounds.  Challenging sometimes, but not some kind of existential nightmare.

Although I don't love in any real sense, any noble, spiritual, or romantic sense, I do still like people very much.  I'm certainly capable of being very fond of a person, and even in developing some rudimentary, conditional loyalty to someone.  But it's all a transaction, hidden though it might be.  It's all a secret, subtle numbers game.  It's about what I get out of that person, versus how much they inconvenience or demand of me.  As soon as that balance becomes "unprofitable", I'm done with them.  There's no unconditional, continuous devotion to anyone else in me.  I can't even imagine what that would feel like.

I can't love, but I can adore.  To me, it's a very different thing.  I often feel quite strongly about a person, in a positive way.  It's essentially an extreme sort of appreciation.  It's a huge feeling of enjoying someone, of really being very satisfied with how they make me feel, or what they do for me.  But still, it's all about their effect on me, on my life, on my mental state.  Not about some inherent value that I place upon them as a person, irrespective of how they impact me in practical application.

But when I adore, I can adore very sincerely, very intensely, and very passionately.  I know, it's odd to think of someone being "passionate" and being "unable to love", but again, I think they're not the same thing, despite being often conflated in popular thought and cultural dialogue.  I can form very powerful (even if temporary, or exceedingly brief) attachments to people, or infatuations with them, or other expressions of appreciation.  Even genuine gratitude, or a sort of humble awe of someone, I can feel.  Just not selfless, unconditional, inconvenient love.

I do view people as means to an end, and in a more subtle way, as objects.  No matter how much I adore someone, no matter how much they impress me, inspire me, totally blow me away with their awesomeness, they're still, ultimately, just an apparatus by which I achieve favorable states of mind and enjoyable experiences.  If they stop being useful, stimulating, comforting, or fun, all of that passionate admiration will vanish like smoke in the wind, and I won't care any more about them than I do about any other competitor for resources.  Which is to say, not much at all.

It's a lot like when we say that we "love" certain music, or a book, or a movie, or a type of food, or an activity.  It's not an altruistic, interpersonal connection we're talking about.  No one literally loves ice cream, they wouldn't put the needs of ice cream above their own, they wouldn't dive in front of a bullet to save ice cream, they don't stay up tossing and turning at night worrying about whether or not ice cream is happy.  (Or if they do, they're a whole different kind of interesting, and I'm interested in meeting them.)

When someone says that they "love" ice cream, they mean that they appreciate it.  That they enjoy it.  That it gives them pleasure, satisfaction, desired stimuli.  It amuses them, it causes effects upon their mind and body which are fun.  But that's as far as it goes.  It's not a two-way street.  They're not trying to make ice cream's life better, nor would they be likely to ever spare a moment's thought for such a ridiculous idea.

When I "love" people, I do so in exactly the same way that I love ice cream, orange juice, Dostoyevsky, or Rage Against the Machine.  That's what it means, to me, to say that I do not and cannot love.  Because while humanity may have countless definitions and ways of viewing love, they almost certainly do not mean, when it comes to the question of loving another person, simply "loving" them as you do a mere object of pleasure or pastime.  So even if I say "I love you" I don't really mean anything by it that a normal person might reasonably expect that phrase to mean.  I don't mean anything giving or sharing or selfless or devoted or unconditional by it.  I simply mean, "Hey, you taste good.  I'd like to continue eating you.  For now."

Does this mean that I cannot form any relationships, have any friends, experience intimacy or romance?  No, it doesn't mean that.  Because I'm not psychotic, or wildly fickle, and I do have a very strong sense of appreciation for others.  I'm perfectly capable of adoring a person for years and years, indefinitely, perhaps for my entire life.  That is, if they remain interesting and don't become unduly troublesome to me.  I have lifelong friends who have managed this perfectly well, and I am deeply pleased by them, and I think that we contribute a lot of value to each others' lives.

What it does mean, though, is that there is a lot of acting involved.  A great deal of lying, pretending, and manipulation on my part.  Most folks don't want to hear that you don't really give a shit about them, at the end of the day.  They want to believe that you do, in fact, love them, and ironically, they usually place that as a condition of their own "love".  (Which, to my mind, makes claims of that love a bit questionable, but who am I to tell others how to love?)  I'm fine with that, I understand how humans are, and happy to adapt, to play their games, to put on whatever show they require.  As long as I'm getting what I want from them.  And if not, I just move along.

So yes, there's a lot of deception, but I like to think of it as benign deception.  I'm generally not out to trick anyone maliciously.  I don't see much upside to just hurting or screwing people over for no good reason.  I don't wake up in the morning and think, "Hahaha, who will I torment today?  What weak-willed fool will I break with my fiendish machinations?  I will see them all suffer!"  How would that be useful?  I deceive because it's expedient, because it makes my interactions with other people work, because it gets me what I want, and because the reality of who I am and how I feel about others would, for the most part, freak them out.

I usually act pretty nice, really.  I act like I care about people.  I do the things that caring people do.  I perform the role of a person who loves, even though I'm not actually feeling or experiencing love itself.  And in return, I get all of the things that people want from other people in social relationships.  Company, camaraderie, intimacy, laughter, fun, conversation, partnership, sexual gratification, ego boosting, comfort, acceptance, and all that stuff.  It can be more challenging, and a lot more temporary or prone to loss, but it's all still possible, even without ever loving anyone.  Most people never even realize that I don't love them.  They don't need to know.

I don't think of people -- and here I mean specific individuals that I choose to develop relationship with -- as hapless morons whose silly little minds I'm toying with like puppets.  I don't think of myself as some kind of devilish mastermind, weaving a wicked web to ensnare all those around me.  It's really not like that.  I say that I'm a sociopath who loves no one, who cannot love, who sees people as objects and means, who is only concerned with how they effect me, and who has no ultimate morality guiding me to treat others well . . . but honestly, it's not as sinister as it might sound.  It really isn't.  I'm not some comic book villain.  I'm just lacking a certain capacity which most people (presumably) possess.

I don't even especially lament the inability to love.  I'm fine with things as they are.  I'm fine with myself, as I am.  I don't feel like I'm especially missing out, in fact being able to selflessly love or genuinely empathize with others seems a lot more like a big hassle, burden, and liability, to me.  I'm fairly glad I'm not saddled with that mess. Not that I think that people who can feel that (normal people, I guess) are somehow inferior to me.  I don't really see one or the other as "better" . . . just different.  Each has its advantages and disadvantages, I'm sure.  I can't make a direct comparison, as I haven't been able to experience both and lay them side-by-side.

It's really only troublesome in that it makes it very difficult to form long-lasting relationships with anyone, or to maintain the ones I have.  Because I really don't care, I tend to be excessively casual with others' feelings, or with honoring any kind of commitments, or making sustained efforts to be involved with others.  I lose out on a lot of potentially very enjoyable and beneficial associations because I just can't be bothered to even pay attention to people most of the time, and I lack that intrinsic empathetic connection to others that would, or so I gather, make me feel compelled to.  Normal folks, apparently, feel that it is very important, even necessary, to stay in contact with their "loved ones", to make a conscious effort to "be there for them" on a regular basis.  This allows them to maintain long-term, deep and complex relationships much better than myself.  I default to only attempting to interact with anyone when I need something, when I'm looking for some specific sort of gain from that person, right in that moment.  I don't feel any drive to do otherwise, and that tends to piss people off and cause alienation.

I don't do well with obligation or expectation.  Pretty much, expecting anything of me is going to end badly.  But it's all dependent upon what I'm getting from someone.  The better they're giving me, the more I like what they have to offer, the more value I place on the specific effects of my relationship with them, then the more inconvenience and effort I'm willing to endure in order to maintain our arrangement.  Not endure for their sake.  Just to enable the function of me continuing to get what I want from them.

It all sounds very calculating, and occasionally it is, but mostly, this stuff is all going on automatically, unconsciously, deep down below any sort of real thought process.  I'm not sitting there carefully weighing each moment, each exchange, each tiny transaction with every other human being, like some sort of obsessive-compulsive accountant.  It's usually more of a general gestalt, it's pretty intuitive really.  And I don't consider myself especially unreasonable or unfair about it, either.  All I really require from people is that they don't expect more from me than they're giving me.  Well, and that they don't expect me to do, feel, or be things that aren't possible for me or aren't in my nature.

I don't love.  I can't love.  So, it's all well and good if someone wants to love me, as long as they're prepared to accept that it's going to be one-sided -- forever.  (Or are willing to be deceived, and don't try to look too deep beneath the facade.)  The only tricky part of the whole deal is, most people are not okay with that.  In fact, they tend to be pretty horrified by it.  It seems unfair to me to be hated for who I naturally am, and cannot change, but I don't hold that against them much.  We all want what we want, after all.  Who am I to begrudge folks wanting to be sincerely loved?

So, that's one of the major reasons why I feel that the "sociopath" label fits me.  The inability to love, to genuinely empathize with others, to selflessly care about others, and the lack of any inner compulsion to behave in certain ways solely because other human beings would wish me to or because it would benefit others.  There are more reasons, but we'll explore those another time.

Let's Kick This Off.

Welcome to my new blog. Knowing myself, I expect that it will be updated with extreme infrequency, be filled (to the extent that a rarely-written-in blog can be called "filled") with ridiculous nonsense, and read by virtually no one.

Perfect.

This blog will largely concern itself with topics relating to the big, twisty, mercurial tangle of labels which I find it sometimes useful to heap upon myself. Despite the fact that I like and agree with Kierkegaard's reputed quotation, "If you label me, you negate me", I'm willing to accept some labels, for one simple reason: There is no "me" to speak of. So I'm pretty comfortable with negating this non-existent person, or being similarly negated by others. Negate away.

The labels which I expect will be most relevant to this blog are:

Sociopath

Bipolar

Introspective

Felon

Ex-Convict

Antisocial

Nihilist

Amoral

Anarchist

Heterodox

Iconoclast

Philosopher

But especially the first one . . . sociopath. This is a label which I have only very recently allowed myself to embrace, but I am finding it an increasingly apt fit. I want to talk about it. Write about it. Explore it. Thus, the birth of this blog.

I am inspired by, and cannot recommend highly enough, the blog SOCIOPATHWORLD (sociopathworld.com). I will undoubtedly tread much of the same ground as that fantastic blogger, but it is not my intention to specifically mimic or compete with his work. I expect that I will make plenty of references to his words, though, as he has already written so much about so many of the things I wish to discuss. Still, this isn't meant to be "another sociopathworld", and I wouldn't for a moment suggest that I will produce a blog on par with his. This is merely my own small, personal space to ruminate upon some similar topics. For a more thorough, and better, treatment of the issues, I would suggest that you read his blog.

Am I actually a sociopath? I don't know, and I suspect that no one is really qualified to tell me, conclusively. It's a rather nebulous label, really. I mean, a sociopath according to whom? I've read so many different definitions, lists of qualities and traits which coalesce in the label "sociopath". I've chosen to self-apply it, after much thought, reading, and self-analysis, because I believe that it describes an unusual, notably aberrant type of person in broad strokes, and that I am such a person. I don't think it's "cool" or exciting, but I'm not at all ashamed of it, either. It simply feels . . . accurate. Very much so, and I'm tired of skirting around it and trying to pretend that it isn't.

I don't know how much time I'll devote to actually talking about sociopathy in general terms, in defining things and making reference to a lot of science. This blog will probably be much less about sociopathy per se, and much more about me specifically. My specific thoughts, experiences, and perspective. I'm no authority on any psychological subject, so I won't presume to speak as one. Everything written here will be my own take on things, and nothing more. Whether or not it meshes with the "official" thinking on sociopathy doesn't concern me.

Let's see where this goes, eh?