drinking games are kind of like those "try not to cum" games in that you only decide to play the game if you want to drink/cum but within the game's internal logic you have to pretend that you don't want to
The first mistake that Hannah made was to talk to me. Any remotely socially competent classmate would have noticed the fact that no one else was sitting with me, and in fact were all studiously avoiding me, refusing to make eye contact, the most fundamental sign of social recognition.
I was dressed in my generic uniform of a black t-shirt (women’s fit, so as not to appear lesbian), medium-wash jeans, sneakers, and a low ponytail. It was camouflage, blending in with the masses so no one would target me. All together, I sent the unmistakable message that I was not someone to be interacted with. Well, unmistakable for a normal person, and Hannah was clearly not a normal person. In contrast with my “generic high school student” outfit, Hannah seemed to be dressed to attract as much attention as possible, and not in a good way. She wore a long skirt that went past her knees, bright teal. Girls who wore skirts longer than knee length were never higher status than D tier. Hannah’s graphic t-shirt read “BECAUSE SCIENCE, THAT’S WHY” and sported a depiction of an anthropomorphic test tube rolling its eyes.
Standing next to my assigned seat in Ms. Green’s AP US History classroom, she said, “Are you Walden? I think I’m supposed to sit next to you. Nice to meet you. My name is Hannah Pitts and I’m a junior.”
Her tone was flat and oddly nasal. She didn’t seem like the kind of person I wanted to associate myself with. If I kept my responses as short and neutral as possible, it would be clear to an external observer (even if not to her) that I was uninterested in pursuing a friendship.
“Yeah, I’m Walden. Hi.”
She sat down at the desk next to mine, setting down a notebook covered with stickers of dolphins joyously leaping in front of rainbows and idyllic ocean scenes.
“I’m taking this class because I like history,” she said. “I especially like the Revolutionary War. I hope you like history too, since we’re going to be discussion partners. It says on the board that we’re supposed to do an icebreaker with our new partners. We have to tell each other a fun fact about ourselves, our favorite flavor of ice cream, and one goal we have for the new school year. My fun fact is that dolphins are my favorite animal. My—”
“That’s not a fun fact.”
“What?” She looked at me blankly. I decided to enlighten her.
“A ‘fun fact’ is a personal detail that is unusual or unique in some way. For example, my fun fact was going to be that I have lived in five different states in total, since most people, at least most high school students, have lived in fewer than five states. If Ms. Green wanted us to talk about our favorite animals, she would have explicitly put that on the board, along the lines of the ice cream question. It’s a basic conversational implicature.”
“What’s a conversational implicature?”
“Don’t worry about it, you wouldn’t get it.” She opened her mouth as if to speak, but I continued. “Let’s just move on to the next question. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
She paused a moment, looking confused, or maybe scared. “Uh… chocolate brownie?”
She clearly needed some praise in order to reinforce the desired behavior. “Good job! My favorite flavor of ice cream is blueberry. Now to continue the conversation, I’ll ask you a question. They say that conversations are like a game of tennis, where you trade turns back and forth. So what’s one goal you have for the new school year?
“I want to get good grades in biology and chemistry so I can get into a good marine biology program for college, because I want to become a marine biologist. What’s one goal you have for the new school year?”
“Wait, wait. Obviously we all want to get good grades, but it’s important to also have interpersonal goals. Things like getting to know people, making friends…. Do you have any goals like that?”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I want to make some friends this year.”
She was clearly lonely and desperate. I felt my heart soften. Having read extensively about psychology, I mentally ran through a checklist. Flat affect, special interests, difficulty with conversational norms—if she wanted to make friends she clearly needed someone to help her navigate social situations. These things were difficult enough even for us neurotypicals, but with her challenges, she never had a shot at making friends and fitting in on her own. Maybe with some help, she’d be able to behave normally enough that some people would willingly spend time with her.
Not high-status people, obviously. She was currently F-tier, the lowest of the low. With some social skills coaching, she might be able to reach D-tier, like me. The people who were ignored but not detested. D-tier kids sometimes were friends with each other. Take the emo kids who ate lunch in the hallway outside the cafeteria, for instance. They were clearly low-status and mentally ill, but they were often laughing with each other and even making physical contact of a platonic nature. D-tier wasn’t the worst place to be.
“You know, I might be able to help you with that. There are some basic social skills you’ll have to work on before starting to approach potential friends, but I can give you some tips. I’ve spent a lot of time studying the people here, so I’m familiar with their systems of status. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you to ignore status just because they want everything to be sunshine and rainbows. I’ve tried to do that before, and it always ends badly. The social world is a harsh one, but there are rules if you look carefully enough. And once you know the rules, you just have to follow them.”
“Okay, how should I start?” Hannah asked, staring at me unblinkingly.
“First of all, don’t look at me like that. Normal people will think you’re weird. You have to avoid eye contact with anyone you don’t know, especially if they’re higher status than you, or you come across as presumptuous.”
Before I could give her more useful advice, Ms. Green called the class together for a lecture on pre-Columbian history. I whispered to Hannah that we’d talk more at lunch.
I suggested that we eat outside on the school grounds rather than in the cafeteria. She probably had sensory issues, so I assumed that she would be more comfortable somewhere quieter, and besides, I didn’t want half the school to see us fraternizing. As we ate, I gave her some social advice, starting with the basics.
“Your parents, teachers, counselors may tell you otherwise, but it’s really all about status. It’s trivial to recognize someone’s status once you get the hang of it. Status comes from a combination of factors: attractiveness, intelligence, athleticism, connections, wealth, and social skills. And everyone is drawn to higher-status individuals. For example, the really popular kids in the A and B tiers are completely out of my league, friendship-wise, but my more realistic goal is to make some friends on the Trivia Bowl team. They’re mostly around C tier. Still kind of nerdy, but also funny and interesting. I’m hoping to get up into C tier myself this year, and maybe then I’ve got a shot.”
“What tier am I?”
I felt bad breaking the news to her, but I had to be honest. “I’m sorry, but you’re F tier. Don’t worry, I bet you can get into D tier if we really lock in. I can eat lunch with you a couple times a week when I don’t have club meetings, and we can discuss your strategy.”
The next morning, there she was in our history classroom, waving at me. “Hi Walden!”
I didn’t want to attract too much attention to myself, but I empathized with her situation. I decided to think of talking to her as a little charity project. I was donating my time and skills to help those less fortunate than myself. It would be nice to have someone who was grateful to me for a change.
“Hi, Hannah. How are you?”
She smiled widely. “I’m doing well, thank you! I got a new book about dolphins, so I’ve been reading a lot. Did you know that dolphins exhibit the capacity for self-consciousness. They can pass the mirror test. If you mark a dolphin with ink and put it in a tank with a mirror, they will exhibit self-directed behaviors, showing that they recognize that the reflection is their own self rather than another dolphin.”
“No, I didn’t know that. That’s very interesting.”
“Also did you know that fishermen in one village in Japan hunt dolphins by herding them into a bay and then closing it off with nets so they can’t escape. The fishermen leave them there over night and then they come in and kill or capture the dolphins one by one. They kill them by cutting their spinal cords, and it can take over four minutes for them to die.”
“Oh god, okay. You know, you can’t just say that kind of thing in public. Most people don’t like hearing about dolphins dying a horrible death.”
She paused. Her eyes looked shiny, almost as if she were crying. “I know that. I don’t like it either, but that’s why it’s important to talk about it in order to raise awareness about dolphin fishing.”
“Even if it makes people stop wanting to talk to you.”
“Yes.”
I knew that her behavior was coming from a place of black-and-white thinking and lack of cognitive perspective-taking, but nonetheless, I respected her commitment. I wished I could have that kind of pure, single-minded passion for a cause.
That night, I decided that if I was going to be hanging out with Hannah, I should know at least a little bit about her special interest. I planned to skim an article or two about cetaceans, but the dense web of links drew me in, and I spent all evening reading. A few days later, when we met up in the courtyard for lunch, I was eager to show off my new knowledge.
“I read the entire ‘Dolphin’ Wikipedia article so I can understand your interest better. I also read ‘Dolphinarium’, ‘Beluga whale’, ‘Melon (cetacean)’, and” (I whispered this part in case any less knowledgeable classmates were listening) “‘Spermaceti’. They’re honestly pretty interesting creatures. We can talk about dolphins sometime if you want.”
“Oh! If you’re interested in dolphins now, you should come see my room! It’s ocean-themed and I have eleven different cetacean plushies. Four are whales and seven are dolphins. I don’t have any porpoises yet, but there’s a vaquita porpoise one that I want. We should have a playdate sometime.”
“Oh my god, Hannah.” I rolled my eyes. “You can’t say playdate! It’s simultaneously childish and sexual. They’ll definitely judge you for saying that.”
“Who’s they?”
“The people you’re trying to befriend, obviously!” I couldn’t believe she had already forgotten the whole reason we were hanging out. “We should decide who your targets are pretty soon. Definitely go for D tier, like maybe some of the anime club regulars.”
“Oh. Right.”
I didn’t really want to spend an afternoon at Hannah’s house, but I had nothing else to do on Saturdays, so there I was. The whole drive over, my mom rambled about how excited she was that I was finally making friends. I didn’t want to break the precise nature of this friendship to her. Even if she respected my charitable impulse, she might be a little disappointed to know that I didn’t like Hannah or have anything in common with her and that I’d phase out our hangouts as soon as she made some other friends.
At 2:02 p.m., my mom dropped me off at a surprisingly normal-looking suburban house and waved goodbye. Hannah opened the door as soon as I knocked. She must have been waiting there since 2:00. I smiled to myself indulgently. Typical rigidity and need for a precise schedule. It was nice to interact with someone I could predict so well. Most people operated with multiple layers of metacognition and reasoning about others’ beliefs. The simplicity of Hannah’s reasoning was refreshing in contrast. If we agreed to meet at 2, meet at 2 she would. Fewer exhausting layers of modelling for me to keep track of. Unaware that I was analyzing her as a fascinating anthropological specimen, she led me to her room. A chess board sat on the desk along with a pile of school papers and assorted books on history and marine biology. The bed was lined with stuffed dolphins and whales, among other ocean creatures.
“...And these are my last two plushies, Tuva and Nona!”
She paused, looking at me expectantly.
“I only see one whale.”
“Well, Tuva has a secret… her mouth zips open!”
Hannah demonstrated. Sure enough, there was a smaller stuffed animal sitting inside. I pretended to be impressed.
“Wow, another whale!”
Hannah smiled. “Actually, Nona also has a secret! Orcas are technically not whales but dolphins, more specifically oceanic dolphins. They’re the largest species of dolphin, even though Nona is very small.”
“Okay, it’s honestly kind of crazy that you know all that. I mean, I’m sure I read that on Wikipedia, but there are so many species that I can’t remember all the details I’ve read. You seem really smart.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said, hugging the stuffed orca to her chest. “I’m not actually that smart, though. I do okay in school but I don’t really care about most of my classes. It’s different when it’s something I actually care about. And I’ve cared about dolphins for almost ten years now. It’s not my only interest but it’s definitely the biggest one. I feel like it’s the only one that actually matters. Dolphins are amazing creatures, and even though everyone says they like them, humans are the main threat to their lives, even when we don’t mean to. Cetacean bycatch, for example—even when we’re just trying to catch fish, dolphins can get tangled in the nets or caught on the hooks. If I can get more people to understand the consequences, then maybe we can protect the dolphins, at least some of them.”
On Monday, I had Trivia Bowl practice at lunch. I caught a few literary references that no one else figured out, but apparently that wasn’t enough for my teammates to pay attention to me. When we were done with the round of trivia, they chatted together while they finished their lunches. I sat to the side, listening to them and occasionally laughing when someone said something funny, in order to establish an easygoing and nonthreatening persona. Somehow, I found myself thinking about my meetups with Hannah, where I could talk with someone who was willing to listen to me. I could be the powerful person for a change, the one who generously deigned to listen to Hannah’s lectures on her interests, rather than the one desperately trying to insert myself into a conversation with people who barely acknowledged my existence. Hannah might be low status, but she was genuinely nice.
My teammate Meera said something funny. I laughed on cue. Enough thinking about Hannah. Hanging out with her seemed appealing when I was desperate enough, but having normal friends would be even better.
We sat together in the courtyard again for lunch the next Monday, since I didn’t have Trivia Bowl practice that day. On a sunny October day like that one, it was clearly preferable to the stuffy cafeteria. I wondered why I had never had the idea to eat outside before. The one downside was that I would have to go back inside if I wanted to get food from the cafeteria, and I had forgotten to bring my lunch.
“You can have something from my lunch,” Hannah said. “I have a peanut butter sandwich, applesauce, and a bag of sea salt and vinegar chips.”
I hadn’t expected that offer. I didn’t know why she would want to share her food with me, but I’d take it. “Oh, thank you. That’s nice of you. Um… can I have your chips?”
I was a bit tired of hearing about dolphins, so I started talking about the works of Jane Austen. I wanted to convince Hannah to start reading them, and then maybe we’d have slightly more in common to discuss.
“Obviously everyone will tell you to read Pride and Prejudice, but Persuasion is actually a much more complex and nuanced novel. You’ve probably never heard of it. It was Austen’s last completed book, and it shows the maturation of her work both in the writing style and in her choice of a slightly older heroine. So start with Persuasion.”
“I liked the Pride and Prejudice movie, though.”
I was about to respond with a scathing critique of every Pride and Prejudice movie ever created, but my attention was drawn by my Trivia Bowl teammate Meera waving at me.
“Hey, Walden,” she called from the doorway. “Can I talk to you for a minute about our competition this Wednesday?”
“Yeah, sure. Give us a minute, Hannah.”
I walked over to her. “What’s up?”
“So Devi’s sick. She might not be back by then, and even if she is, she probably won’t want to stay after school for the competition. So I was thinking that we could put one of the freshmen in for her. I was thinking maybe Evelin, since she’s done really well in our practices so far.”
“Yeah, sure. Evelin seems really motivated, I think she’ll be fine.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m just stressed since this is our first meet of the season, and if we lose one early on, it’ll be bad for morale. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Appreciate the feedback. Anyway, I didn’t know you and Hannah were friends.”
This was exactly what I had feared from the beginning, what I had futilely tried to avoid by eating lunch outside where fewer people would see us. I was trying to build my connections with my Trivia Bowl teammates, but now they would all know that I spent time with Hannah, and as a result, my social status would drop beyond the point of recovery. My hands felt sweaty.
I forced a laugh. “We’re not friends, ha ha. I’m just hanging out with her because I felt bad for her, but I don’t even like her. She’s kind of weird, right?”
Meera frowned. “Uh… I don’t know. I guess? It’s obviously not her fault though, try to be a little nicer about it. Well, see you later.” She turned and walked back into the school.
I exhaled and wiped my palms on my jeans. Crisis averted. Hopefully now Meera would understand that I was just being charitable. I turned back to Hannah and saw that she was already staring in my direction. Our eyes met. Her eyebrows were furrowed together. She looked unhappy.
“You don’t like me?”
Shit. I hadn’t considered what Hannah would think of what I had just said. I ran back over to her. “Wait, did you hear that? You weren’t supposed to hear it. I didn’t actually mean any of it. It’s just a strategy for optimal social development. I have to externally distance myself from people in lower tiers than myself in order to make new friends, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out, as long as we’re subtle about it. I’m sorry, okay? I had to say those things.”
She turned away from me. “Whatever. Can you please leave me alone?”
So I left. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, and the guilt sat heavy in my stomach, but maybe it was for the best. She would move on eventually, maybe find someone else to follow around. Someone who could actually help her. Someone with less to lose. Maybe we would both be better off without each other dragging us down.
a lot of stupid discourse could be avoided if instead of saying “all art is political” people said “all art can be analyzed politically,” which is what they mean anyway
every criticism of effective altruism seems to value the lives of africans at ~0. its like arguments about vegetarianism but vastly crazier, because it's yknow. it's human children! theyre not even that far away! you could take a plane and go see them! EA matters, a lot!
The recent NY Post hit piece against effective altruism basically says it outright. Giving money to people who live in the third world "takes away building relationships with your neighbor, that impulse to give locally"
Lives saved in Africa are just abstract statistics, numbers, and caring about them makes you a nerd. Lives in the first world are real people, and if you withhold from them their chicken nuggets and opera houses you must hate human flourishing.
i would expect sketch comedy to be much funnier than improv (i’d assume that sufficiently good actors/writers would be strictly funnier with preparation) but the absolute chasm between how much i laugh at SNL versus dropout seems to imply otherwise
gummygunk
pixelskylines
dededos
izzy806
jacobvanloon
ellievsbear
jbbartram-illu
