Online communities, like any social space, form their own unspoken rhythm, a mix of banter, warmth, humour, and the occasional squabble. Most newcomers sense the tone and blend in, perhaps lurking for a while before joining the flow. But every now and then, someone barrels through the virtual door like a drunk at a wake, hollering “Hello pervs!” as though this were a strip joint or stag weekend.
In one group, a truck driver took this exact approach. Each day, he’d make his entrance with that crude little greeting, dive headfirst into innuendo, and begin targeting the women he found attractive, not with charm or wit, but with clumsy sexual overreach. Words like “vagina” dropped in casually, not anatomically or intelligently, but as a cheap ticket to provoke or claim dominance. His other chat up lines included discussion on “meatballs” and “being thirsty” interspersed with asssociated gifs.
When called out, politely or otherwise, the reaction was textbook narcissistic fragility. Instead of reflecting or apologising, he’d become petulant and ignore the person challenging him. Then comes the twist, a small, loyal chorus of women rally to his defence. Often bored, flattered by his attention, and frequently unaware of their own self-worth, they leap in to soothe his bruised ego. “He’s only joking,” they cry. “He’s got a good wit.” The group dynamic begins to twist.
This is not new behaviour. Psychologists have long identified this pattern as a mixture of love-bombing and covert aggression. Charmers like him latch onto women they sense as vulnerable, not through intuition or empathy, but through years of honing their radar for low boundaries. Must be nice, having a fan club that claps when you spell your name right.
A woman with strong self-esteem is a threat because she will call them out. She does not need their approval; inevitably they will soon block her because they can’t cope with someone speaking without grovelling to their ego.
The so-called “desperate housewives” effect is tragic rather than amusing. Women who’ve been starved of attention, possibly in real life or past relationships, mistake this attention for affection. It’s not. It’s manipulation dressed in a cowboy hat (who possibly has a very timid housewife he keeps under control verbally).
The group begins to suffer. Conversations flatten. People become guarded. Regulars drop off, tired of the constant background sleaze and the emotional landmines of standing up to it. Whispered complaints become real tensions. The vibe, once supportive or funny or clever, turns into a daily episode of Who’s Siding With The Creep Now?
Eventually, the group owner will have to act and get their hob nailed boots on. At which point, some of the group will cheer and others sulk. A few will leave in protest, no doubt to join another group where the cycle can begin again.
But here’s the lesson: tolerance for this kind of behaviour is not kindness. It’s not open-mindedness. It’s complicity. Allowing one man’s unresolved issues and one group of women’s low self-worth to dominate a shared space erodes everyone’s experience.
If you’re in a group, virtual or otherwise, where the line of decency is constantly being blurred, speak up. Not everyone will thank you. Some will block you. But your silence is not neutral. Silence signals permission.
Standards matter. Morals matter. Respect isn’t a lofty ideal, it’s the bare minimum. Encourage them to go off and start their own “Desparate Housewives and Thirsty Husbands” group…
I’m lucky that our rugby chat group owner has a zero tolerance for any form of thirsty men and his response is a quiet click of the “Remove” button, before the rot sets in and good people leave.
Photo by Eyestetix Studio
