The Arrogance Effect – like the Axe effect, but better.

Confidence, they say, always grabs the eye. You could be dressed in dreary rags, yet with the right attitude, could be seen as the hobo equivalent to Giselle Bundchen. But what do you get when an individual has a surplus of such attitude? A confidence overload. Yes, you got it : arrogance.

 

Let’s take two scenarios, referring to each gender.

Scenario 1:

A man spies a woman across a crowded hall. The woman looks at him for a brief moment, then turns her nose up and looks away. He thinks “Arrogant Cow.”

Scenario 2:

A woman sees a tall, okayish looking man at a crowded venue. She’s trying her luck, looks at him and smiles. The man avoids eye contact entirely, and looks away. Her intuition (skillz, yo) tells her the man knows precisely her intentions, but he’s obviously too important or amazing to go near her. She thinks “Must…have…hot…man….” Instant attraction, better than that of any deodorant.

Perhaps the stronger of the fairer sex (women, in case you were wondering) would be able to resist the arrogance effect, and unto them I say “WELL DONE. DON’T YOU DARE FALL FOR THE NEXT SWAGGERIFIC BROTHER WHO THINKS HE’S GOT THE MOVES”. To the rest of us (mostly myself) it’s quite an issue.

I had recently fallen prey to such an effect when I ventured into conversation with a fairly normal looking young man of about 20. His features were plain, yet it was his attitude that transformed his physical limitations into that of a glowing demi-god. His flattish nose became equivalent to the beauty of the Sphinx’s missing facial feature (really hot, since it’s in Egypt and all that. Dry joke ftw) and his height elevated him to the status of a man clearly out of my reach. His demeanor dripped arrogance, signaling the odds of tapping (and I don’t mean the kind of dance) reaching negative ratios. Yet this invoked a primal urge within me.

“Must….have…hot…man.”

Now, I’m not a genius, but I am a bit bookish and quite capable of civil conversation, yet this young man seemed to find endless opportunities to ‘chirp’ me. Although I was hardly roasted in the conversation (heat proof fringe), it was the emotional distance that was maintained that became thoroughly exciting.  My irreverent yet witty jokes were met with an eyebrow raise where they usually ignited polite laughter. It was intriguing how real he was – how unafraid he was to imply, “Stop, your jokes are terrible”. All this was possible because he was very much assured that I would still be attracted to him; regardless of any verbal exchanging of blows (that’s what she said, although nothing came to be of it. Sad face) …. And he was very much correct.  

Men and Women : Prehistoric Stage

I’m well aware that such an archaic urge usually belongs to the not-as-fair sex (men, duh). Yet inevitably, as per Jungian Psychology, we all contain common archetypes within our subconscious psyche. Therefore, as a woman, I probably acknowledged his level of testosterone to be breaking the barriers of common humanity, essentially conveying the prehistoric message of: Man tough. Man provide for woman.  Make babies. Ug ug. Grunt. Protect woman and babies. Ug ug.

Although in reality his urbane, perfectly clipped nails and pristine hairstyle wouldn’t stand a chance in a battle to protect our cave from a T-Rex, he’s undoubtedly the modern equivalent of the macho caveman. His Mercedes would parallel the rock throwing skills of the man of the stone era, his highly skilled university degree (Bsc/Bcomm/BComp Sci/ BEng … basically anything but a BA ) would serve as his spear to defend us from the saber tooth tiger of poverty and his parent’s palatial house coupled with his private apartment would represent our cave (that’s what she said). 

Men and Women : Present Stage. Ooh, sexy and too cool for me.

Oh, did I mention such arrogance only ever really becomes that much more attractive when he smells like money…err I mean D&G Blue. Perhaps the whole reason some women turn to gold digging is because their subconscious need to be provided for is uprooted by the man, who instead of bringing home freshly killed pterodactyl, brings home 6 digit paychecks.