“The only way to overcome the meaninglessness of life is by being an edgy wanker”—Ancient Greek proverb
Have you recently become consumed with existential dread? Are Nietzsche and the comforts of your flat the only thing on your mind at drinks? Do your mates call you “wise” and “boring” in the same sentence? We hate to break it to you, but you may be going through your ‘pretentious cunt’ (PC) phase.
But don’t be alarmed! Some may call for emergency surgery on that stick up your ass, but we’re here to tell you it’s okay to embrace it. No one chooses this lifestyle, and sooner or later we’re all gonna face it. As certified life coaches and philosophy bros in-the-making, we’re here to guide you through this new journey. And don’t worry, we’re not gonna pull the whole “coaches don’t play” clichė on you, we’re still, worryingly, deep in this too. Mom, if you’re reading this, it’s not a phase, pretentious cuntiness is a way of life.
So, what is it exactly?
There are a few things that may indicate you’re going through the PC phase. Don’t get introspective twisted with introvert—this phase can strike anyone, even the most energetic, ENTJ. You might not have all these signs, but if you’re living your best pretentious cunt life, you’ll have at least a few of them.
You might develop a strong emotional attachment to your dressing gown, the comforting folds of your bed, the voice of your favourite true crime podcaster—essentially anything that distracts from the empty void of existence.
Bar101 begins to look more and more like the ninth circle of hell. You start wondering if being dragged out on a night out by friends can be considered a crime against humanity. FOMO? TGIF? Those are things of the past. The only thing us insufferable indie sleazebags ought to be doing is STFU.
The worldly highs and lows of friendship beef and relationship drama seem beneath you. Some may call it apathy, but we like to refer to this state as “enlightenment”. Nothing is more blissful than putting your emotions, and phone, on permanent airplane mode.
You’ve switched off Love Island for more intellectual forms of entertainment, like obsessively binge-watching documentaries. “It’s sophisticated watching”, you say, “Blue Planet is protein powder for my mind”. Fascinating internet rabbit holes call your name at 2 am. You find your aggressively atheist self pursuing an unauthenticated PhD in Theology, replacing your old mindless TikTok scrolling habits with Scientology Reddit threads.
The only sounds blasting through your headphones is David Attenborough’s soothing narration, The Smiths, or some other pretentious alt artist only people with evolved ‘taste’ can appreciate. Your sworn enemy is Kate Bush—you prefer the unappreciated talents of Enya, Fiona Apple, and Björk.
Sure, these signs could mean anything; you may just be a soft boy, or a pick-me girl. But if you meet the following hallmark symptoms, you’ve officially been initiated into the PC club.
Uh oh. What are unmistakable signs for this phase?
You start off with perusing Youtube philosophers (no, CrashCourse doesn’t count), or maybe you took Phil 103 in first-year. It’s all downhill from there. The Wikipedia pages of Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre, Plato, and other existential philosophers are bookmarked, and WatchMojo.com’s ‘Top 10 Philosophers’ is your most recent Youtube watch.
In more advanced stages of being a PC, you’ll start applying any random philosophical theory to whatever you’re doing. It might be choosing takeout with mates and you’ll start cycling through utilitarianism, deontology, and perhaps virtue ethics because you just learned about ethical decision-making. Or you’ll try out philosophical ideologies like your latest ASOS order: you’re emo one day so you take a shot at stoicism, or you’ll knock over the coffee you needed to study and absurdism is the flavour of your day.
Those who are deep in the pretentious cuntiness phase tend to be the worst debbie-downers and party-poopers on a night out. All you wanna do is GTFO. You may or may not gaze into space, thinking of the Myth of Sisyphus and what it says about the meaninglessness of life—all while dudes in tech vests go doof doof unce unce around you. But, if you ever catch yourself starting sentences with “Confucius says…” seek professional help immediately.
You start relating to Sad Ben Affleck. You know the one, where he’s smoking a cig and waiting for sweet, eternal sleep. The lonely cigarette, the empty look on his face—he’s going through a type of introspective tranquillity that comes with accepting the passing of time and thinking big thoughts. Real deep shit.
Taking walks starts becoming a way of life. Google Maps says 35 minutes to New World? Walk. Added too much water to your rice and made it into slop? Nothing a stoll can’t fix. Your bus rides are romantic, it’s your chance to craft poetry about the neighbourhood construction site, or the 5 pm highway traffic. You think it’s so European of you, manifesting on the commute home, perhaps even sporting a beret… you are Emily in Paris.
Why is this happening to me?
Our friends, the real question here is “why do we exist?”. Unfortunately, we haven’t conjured enough shower thoughts to solve this age-old conundrum, or explain the root causes of being a PC. Simply conceptualise this phase as a permanent mid-life crisis…
It’s clear that Covid has been a trigger for some: town closed, staying in for weeks on end, government-recommended walkies. It’s no wonder we’re seeing an uptick in premature maturing. Eventually, it just becomes a lifestyle for some. For others, you’ve never quite outgrown your angsty 2016 Tumblr phase that convinced you Matty Healy and Alex Turner were the peak philosophers of this millenium. Maybe you consider yourself an “old soul”, forever wishing you were born in another, and arguably more problematic, era.
But, deep down, when you’ve skipped out on drinks to stay home and homebody it up, or started meal prepping and making pasta from scratch, you knew you’ve always secretly relished in life’s mundane comforts. Who knows, if the chicken or egg came first, or if it’s nature or nurture. Maybe you’ll figure out that answer for us when you’re next in one of your questioning-the-reality-I-live-in sessions?
What should I do?
Pretentious cuntiness is a rite of passage. Whether you’re 20 or 60 years old, the PC phase does not discriminate. Friends, loved ones, normies, may show concern, but fear not. Only true peace and zen can be found in the pages of your last purchased Popular Penguin.
We understand that these heightened feelings of edginess can be overwhelming. Start off small to avoid sending off alarm bells for your loved ones. Slowly go off the grid, it’ll multiply your brooding mysteriousness and superiority complex. Consider brewing your own kombucha, spending one-on-one quality bonding time with your Oodie, or listening to Radiohead alone in your room. A little goes a long way, and eventually you’ll bloom into a sourdough obsession, Haruki Murakami on your Goodreads, and the occasional 2 am walk with your vape to the viaduct to stare into emptiness.
Fucking welcome this phase with open arms. There’s nothing to fear, except being an insufferable devil’s advocate. But don’t worry about that—there’s not enough time to be existential and a bit nihilistic to care about what others think. Besides, they’ll know what it’s like soon enough. Above all, don’t fight this way of life. Our boy Albert Camus once said, “The only thing that can defeat absurdity is lucidity”. But you probably already knew that.