Maybe this article titled “My fling with a Proud Boy”, with the subhead “A young liberal reflects on what a far-right romance taught her about men, women, love, and life”, is supposed to be a joke, except that it got published in The American Conservative, which doesn’t have much of a reputation for humor. It’s usually more about racism.
Elias is a trim, intelligent man about my dad’s size.
My sarcasm sense is already tingling, confirmed later by frequent mentions of Freud and Jung. She’s got to be pulling everyone’s leg.
He seemed quiet, except for his clothes. He wore a jaunty plaid hat and his wool coat reminded me of a Confederate soldier’s. There were anti-PC pins on it.
“I’m fighting the establishment,” he said. (In my mind he added m’lady.)
Elias was on a Tinder spree. His heart was torn. His girlfriend broke up with him a year ago so she could explore the world.
It just gets more and more ridiculous.
Elias told me he didn’t like mainstream media. I referenced Paglia. He countered with Evola. We both read Robert Greene. We kept going until I pulled the trump card:
“I’m reading Jung.”
He tilted the Pepe on his screensaver towards me.
“Have you heard of the Proud Boys?”
There’s a point in a girl’s life when she needs it. This was that point. In 2017 I almost got married. I failed. I’d only lived in New York for six months when I met him; I was definitely influenced by Sex and the City.
Come on. The editors at the American Conservative had to have caught on by now.
One night he brought Guinness and oranges. My place is small; I sat on my chair and he sat at the desk.
“You look dapper,” I said. His outfit was ASOS. He pulled a yellow compass-looking apparatus out of his canvas messenger bag.
“Here, give me your face.”
He held it at several angles across my cheekbone.
“You’re neotenous,” Elias said approvingly.
I raised a brow. He paused, taking a drink. Then he added “You’re cute.”
I smiled. “Come up with me.”
We climbed the wooden ladder to my loft.
“I’m scared,” I told him. “I’ve been watching Jordan Peterson videos.”
“Father Peterson is helping you through?”
“I watched the one about female heroism. How she knows her children will be in pain and she does it anyway.”
“Ah.” He said it knowingly and wisely, like a sage. “So you are paying attention.”
All right, enough. I can’t believe two human beings could be that insufferable, or that the American Conservative would publish it. Tucker Carlson is chairman of the board there, you know, and Rod Dreher is a senior editor, and it was founded by Pat Buchanan? I suspect this article was run simply to discombobulate everyone.