The new genetic defect

Chris Farah Farah's Faucet

After visiting my brother last weekend at his esteemed college, I am prepared to report a genetic breakthrough of the highest possible order.

The mere fact that I - a lowly English major - am making such a ground-breaking scientific announcement may come as a surprise to many.

My freshman year, I was actually set on the idea of making something useful of myself. I must shamefully admit that I actually took science classes. Chemistry 210, Biology 222 - nothing was too boring, nothing too practical.

So fear not, skeptical reader, I am qualified to change the landscape of genetics with my announcement.

Without further ado, then, I would like to proclaim, after strenuous days of research, the discovery of the gene responsible for the infamously devastating, the horrible ... Mr. Bitch Syndrome.

OK, settle down, stop the cheering - I know it's a big deal, but really, you must allow me to explain the details.

What? You say you've never heard of the vile Mr. Bitch Syndrome? For those deprived among you (I imagine most of you), allow me to briefly explain.

Although you think you are unfamiliar with Mr. Bitch Syndrome, you have probably witnessed - or maybe even suffered from - symptoms of Mr. Bitch Syndrome. Mr. Bitch Syndrome is more commonly referred to in layman's terms as "being whipped." There are two types of Mr. Bitch Syndrome, one far more serious than the other.

Type A Mr. Bitch Syndrome refers to men who are whipped by their girlfriends. These sorry saps spend all their time with their significant others, making them higher priorities than school, career, television, sports and even their buddies - hence earning them the well -deserved moniker of "Mr. Bitch."

Type A, however, is far less serious than Type B. Ideally, those hapless souls suffering from Type A get something out of the whole equation. But Type B Mr. Bitch Syndrome is an exercise in sheer humiliation. Type B Mr. Bitches are whipped by women who aren't even their girlfriends, and who will never be their girlfriends.

Either said woman has already informed the Mr. Bitch that she "just wants to be friends," or - even worse - she actually has another boyfriend. The depths of shame to which Type B Mr. Bitches stoop are almost unfathomable.

Type B Mr. Bitch will do just about anything for said woman, either because deep down, he thinks that maybe someday she'll actually go for him, or because he's actually fooled himself into thinking that it's OK to "just be friends" with a girl he thinks dreamily about night and day.

He'll walk her home. He'll help her with her homework. Sometimes, he'll even do her homework for her. And just when you think it couldn't get any worse, he'll do the unthinkable.

He'll listen to her talk about her boyfriend. He'll listen to her complaints, even give her advice and emotional support - about the schmuck dating the girl he likes.

"All I want is a guy who'll respect me," the object of his affections will sincerely declare. "I just want to find someone who'll care for me, treat me right, blah, blah, blah, blah ...."

"Groan," Mr. Bitch will reply in loving earnest, as his self-respect and dignity ooze out of his nostrils, right in front of the girl, who's too busy thinking of her boyfriend to notice.

I told you it wasn't pretty. And believe me, I know - from personal experience, as sad as it may seem.

But until this weekend, I was certain that Mr. Bitch Syndrome afflicted only men like myself. You know the type. The sensitive guy. The nice guy. The guy who likes art and poetry and all that kind of mushy cultured crap.

But all that changed when I made my genetic discovery. All that changed when I visited my brother.

My brother has always been the anti-nice guy. In other words, not me. Not to say, of course, that my brother isn't a nice guy - he's just not a nice guy.

When I would paint, he would play basketball. When I would read, he would play football. While I decided to major in English, he decided to major in business. We're close enough in age that the same pool of women could realistically be available to us.

When this has been a factor (which fortunately hasn't been often), ultimately, women I have pursued have become good friends of mine. Good friends who have confided to me that they're actually interested in my brother, who of course turns up his nose at them.

Like I told you, he's not a nice guy. And like I told you, it wasn't pretty.

You can imagine my shock, then, when upon seeing my brother, I discovered that now he has become infected with the most virulent disease of them all - classic Type B Mr. Bitch Syndrome. The diagnosis was all too easy.

She has a boyfriend. She relies on my brother as a friend. She uses my brother as a friend. He, in another classic move, has decided that he can handle just being her good friend. The poor lad. I wish I could impart upon him everything I have learned by experience, but experience is the only real teacher.

As tragic as his illness is, it has taught me one thing. Different types of guys may be more susceptible to Mr. Bitch Syndrome than others. But somewhere, deep down, all men have the capacity to become a Mr. Bitch.

All of us, no matter how strong we may seem, no matter how cynical or even shallow we may be, have this pathetic little soft spot. There's nothing wrong with a soft spot, nothing wrong with believing that maybe the person perfect for you does exist, nothing wrong with opening ourselves up emotionally and being a little dependent on someone else.

Until we lose our dignity. Until we allow that other person to take advantage of us - which is inevitable, because no one can pass up having a Mr. Bitch of their own. They're low maintenance. They're helpful and reliable. They're almost too good to be true.

And unfortunately, the potential to be one of them resides in all men - no matter how nice or not-nice. That's the real genetic discovery I made. Not that my brother and I share Mr. Bitch Syndrome, but that all men share it.

The gene for Mr. Bitch Syndrome isn't just one gene; it's the whole Y chromosome. All it needs is the right - or wrong - double X to trigger it.

- Chris Farah can be reached at cjfarah@umich.edu

11-20-97