The Cool Girl speech

So I told you the other day that I didn’t like Gone Girl, even though the book was apparently massively popular, and there’s a monologue that’s been given the name “the Cool Girl speech” which its female readers have found deeply meaningful.  According to Slate, the speech

has been cited and referenced and debated over and over in the two years since the best-seller was published. It is, almost indisputably, the cultural legacy of the book.

What is this extraordinary speech?  Basically, a rant against the Cool Girl, who gives men the appearance of being interested in all manner of Guy Things, having no interest in sex except to please him, and having no other interests to tend to, except to the extent that when her Guy goes out drinking or to the strip club, she’s perfectly happy to stay at home and, I don’t know, knit or something — but be there for him when he gets home.

Or, rather, her rant is really with women who pretend to be this Cool Girl, and with men who think that they really are, because these pretending women think they need to be this Cool Girl in order to get and hold onto a man.  Better than nothing, in their view.

Now, it will probably not surprise you to know that this speech did nothing for me.  It didn’t Speak To Me; it was nothing more than one element in the plot development.

But does the Cool Girl really exist?  Does the man who wants a Cool Girl exist?  I mean, the last time I checked, the point of a relationship was that you both enjoy spending time with each other, and being in love means that you care about your partner’s happiness and well-being.  The world of the Cool Girl is one in which men are fundamentally uninterested in relationships, except to the extent that it means a consistent reliable sex partner, so that any woman who wants a relationship has to settle for a shallow facsimile of a relationship — or one in which men are outnumbered by women in a given social class/social circle.

If that’s the case — if outside my small family-oriented world, men are uninterested in relationships and family — well, that’s pretty sad.  But perhaps instead it’s Slate writers who live in the alien subculture.