Been mentally tinkering with catch-all, alleged psycho-sociological definitions of modern males and began some mild research into definitions of Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta males. I know I am unlikely to be an Alpha papa: I don’t look like Vladimir Putin, don’t wrestle bears, don’t throw money at people to make them comply with my wishes and I am not hung like a donkey with an IQ to match.
Most of what I’ve read abut Betas so far is extraordinarily scathing. Without diving into genuine psychological definitions many people assume Beta males are whining, excuse-riddled, lame-ass sub-men who don’t deserve the best women when it comes to mating.
Therein lies the problem. These definitions seem geared entirely from this sociological perspective – masculinity being defined by a male’s prowess at attracting a mate and ensuring the survival of the species. In which case, what’s the point of tacking on pseudo-psychological jargon? It renders definitions both confusing and contradictory. Within apparently advanced civilisations not all human interaction is dictated by pheromones and procreation, especially not once one leaves one’s twenties behind. So if a Beta male is less adept at attracting a nubile mate, so what? He might be the guy who invents a new form of energy extraction. He could grow up to create works of art which resonate throughout later centuries. He might just be a really nice guy without all that knee-jerk jock bullshit forcing him into behaviours Alphas might wish to abstain from if they had conscience and brain enough to think about who and what they actually are.
Skipping slightly out of sequence, I find it hard to consider Delta males without picturing Mississippi guitarists sitting on the porch of their ramshackle homes writing songs about how their woman died and their dog done left them. This could be me, actually.
I’m more likely to see myself as a Gamma, though. Largely because I can imagine myself as a freakish, word-playing Ramone singing Gamma, Gamma Hey! But also because Gammas seem to get less stick from the redneck, muscle-car bumming American blogger community than Betas and Deltas get. Gammas, in a nutshell, plough their own furrow and are confident enough in being themselves to, er, be themselves.
Which is me on a good day. On a bad day I’m an Omega and ought to be tied to a train track. Or I’m quoting Doctor Who.