Dear Temporary I.T. Guy,
We could have been friends. We could have been buddies. When you came to my work to help Original I.T. Guy (presumably with I.T. stuff) I thought to myself, “This guy seems fun. We should hang out.“
I’m cool, Temporary I.T. guy! I’m fun! I like things! I am already friends with Original I.T. Guy; we send each other funny photos of dogs and computer fails. We laugh together about our colleagues who don’t know things about computers. I know things about computers, I promise. Not enough to have an I.T degree, but at least enough to be friends with Original I.T Guy. Enough to be friends with you.
When you arrived I instantly knew we could be friends. You were funny. I am funny. Original I.T. Guy is funny. We could have been a trio of hilair. We could have gone to the pub; we could have played video games. But you fucked it, Temporary I.T. guy, you totally fucked it up for us, and this is how:
“Are you a closet nerd?” you said.
What exactly is a “closet nerd”, Temporary I.T. Guy? Is it a person who sits in the bottom of their cupboard, amid the socks and the broken coat hangers, weeping over Stargate box sets? Do they have Xbox controllers stuffed down their pants? Do they secretly whisper “may the force be with you” when someone hands them the milk in the break room?
No, Temporary I.T. guy, I am not a “closet nerd”. I am just a “nerd”. I mistakenly thought that I had made this abundantly clear in our multiple conversations about “nerdy things”. Just mere moments before your rather unwanted remark we were laughing together over a photo of a colleague photoshopped to look like Gandalf. It said you ‘shall not pass’ and it made us all laugh. Right up until you fucked it.
I may seem unusually harsh, Temporary I.T. Guy, but we all know the real reason you shoved “closet” in that question. It’s because in my pants lies a thing more terrible than a stashed Xbox controller, a frightening, strange thing. A vagina.
According to the Internet, I am not “allowed” to be a nerd – it’s not possible. If I claim nerd status I must be faking it; luring “real” nerds (aka those who have managed to collect both Y and X chromosome cards in the starter deck of life) into an awful vagina trap. According to you and to the rest of your kind, Temporary I.T. Guy, if I’m “allowed” to be part of your nerd club at all, I must keep it a secret. I must be ashamed. Do you know how unfair that is? No one asks you if you’re a “closet nerd”, decides you must only secretly be into the things you like. They accept that you’re an I.T. guy; they accept you and your nerd status. What does that feel like, Temporary I.T. Guy? I just want to like things and for no one to suggest that I have ulterior motives. I just want to talk about stuff I like without anyone acting surprised that I like it, or that someone with a vagina likes anything at all.
Temporary I.T. Guy, I know it’s not all your fault. I know you’re just part of a big stupid society that sees dudes as standard and ladies as something else. I know that bullies probably made you feel bad for being into computers and nerdy stuff when you were a kid. But we’re not kids anymore, and you made me feel bad just for being a lady. You made me feel like I’m not allowed to have any substance beyond my face and my body and my hair and maybe my handbag or something. That’s nerd sexism, Temporary I.T. Guy, and no, it’s not so bad as sexism in business or politics or developing countries or anything really. But it’s still shit because we could have been nerd friends. We could have been buddies. And then you fucked it for us and for everybody.
“Nah, out and proud,” I replied, and I might have been able to forgive you one day. Maybe we could have moved past this. But you are only a Temporary I.T. Guy, after all.
B.A. (Drama), Blogger, Gryffindor, Elf, Targaryen, Master Assassin, Nerd4lyf.