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Looking for a relationship in which your partner will never, ever put your needs first? Try dating an objectivist! There’s even a Web site to help you.
The objectivist creed — which you may have heard about because veep candidate Paul Ryan is a fan — was dreamed up by Ayn Rand, author of “Atlas Shrugged” and “The Fountainhead.” She rose to fame in the ’40s and ’50s, and has maintained an influential following since her death in 1982.
“My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life . . . and reason as his only absolute,” Rand wrote. Translation: Objectivists are only looking out for number one.
Or, as Rand put it, “I am done with the monster of ‘we,’ the word of serfdom, of plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.” That may be great in some aspects of life, but you have to question how well that holds up in relationships — and in bed.
Perhaps that’s why there are scores of women on Match, OKCupid and other sites who specifically exclude Rand’s followers. On OKCupid, Manhattanite Blondesmartsexy, 51, says men should message her if “Ayn Rand is not your favorite philosopher.” Meanwhile, Brooklyn bisexual Booksies, 35, includes Rand among “things I could do without.” Child soldiers and bigotry complete her list.
“People who take Ayn Rand very seriously, and are no longer in college, always strike me as intellectually or at least morally unsophisticated, and quite possibly a little crazy,” says Maura Kelly, co-author of “Much Ado About Loving: What Our Favorite Novels Can Teach You About Date Expectations, Not So-Great Gatsbys, and Love in the Time of Internet Personals.”
Kelly once dated a man who dabbled in objectivism. Every time he championed “A-yun Rand,” overpronouncing her name, Kelly winced. (Ayn rhymes with “mine.”) Still, on her profile, Kelly remains open. “You should NOT message me if you like Phish [or] Khalil Gibran. I think there IS accounting for taste. I’ll consider Ayn Rand fans on a case-by-case basis.”
In addition to possibly occupying the White House, objectivists have racked up a few points in their favor. Eva Mendes, Vince Vaughn, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie and Hugh Hefner — along with half of the Republican Congress — are all fans. And earlier this year, they got their own dating site: the Atlasphere, where 15,000 capitalist cuties trawl for ideal mates with come-ons such as:
“You should contact me if you are a skinny woman. If your words are a meaningful progression of concepts rather than a series of vocalizations induced by your spinal cord for the purpose of complementing my tone of voice. If you’ve seen the meatbot, the walking automaton, the pod-people, the dense, glazy-eyed substrate through which living organisms such as myself must escape to reach air and sunlight.”
That is how heroes write.
It could work, though. Mendes is skinny, and her eyes sparkle. If he doesn’t catch her fancy, there’s always this guy: “I love intelligent, sassy girls, particularly those working in consulting or investment banking. Really, nothing is hotter than an accomplished girl in a suit, as long as she is willing to settle down and have my children.”
Rand’s philosophy of man as a hero holds up well in novels, where the protagonists all have genius IQs and look like Jolie and Pitt. Not so much with the average Joe or Jane who wants to get a cup of coffee and maybe see the new movie version of “Atlas Shrugged.”
The rest of us must be resigned to dealing with our share of meatbots. And our sad striving for the eternal serfdom of finding a “we.”