"How do you see me?," she says, sternly.While this chat happens at a meeting labelled explicitly-for-non-dating-purposes-only, it happens by a pool with a view of the skyline, at three in the morning over drinks, interspersed with analyses of people we've been with and how well they fit anatomically, in both quality and quantity.
"As a woman."
"Not as an individual?"
"I don't really think human individuality is important. The common patterns are the part of humans that interest me."
She smiles.
Later, while running errands at work, I'm thinking about how it all ties back to marketing and the meme of Choice. Individuality is a sort of religion, an opium of the masses if you will. My economic history is not sufficiently up-to-date to say which school it reflects best, but the value chains driven by aspirational marketing to consumers are definitely all about this stuff. Folks of a certain pedigree are generally familiar with the notion that choices are illusory. However, abetting such concepts among weak-minded individuals of the species makes it possible to manipulate their behaviours en masse and to redistribute wealth furthermore unequally. I have been friends with another woman who adopts this as a professional specialisation, ironically, she actually believes in celebrating her own individuality - you've got to believe it to sell it, I suppose, and maybe that's why I don't work in advertising.
In case you find this reminding you of socialist tendencies, please be advised that I couldn't be arsed about Marxism. I'm just interested in the mathematics of it all.
(After I write this post, I wonder if I'm supposed to channel Carrie Bradshaw. Crud.)
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