I recently stumbled onto Storage Wars and immediately felt a kinship with Brandi Passante.
For the uninitiated, this “reality” series follows people who buy the contents of abandoned storage lockers in the hope of turning a profit by selling the contents. The show consists largely of the auctions (and the pissing contests) between the male stars.
Brandi, wife of one of the guys, finds herself surrounded by the rawest form of male bravado I think I’ve ever seen on TV (short of late night poker games, that is). She provides a welcome counter-balance by being visibly disdainful of how they treat each other, largely unwilling to enter into the sniping and sabotage, yet quietly figuring out how to use their weaknesses to her advantage.
No surprise, I identify with Brandi in a big way. In fact, her experience on this show describes exactly how I have always felt while moving about the world as a man. The difference is that she feels no pressure to join the testosterone-fueled game-playing, while I always have felt that I needed to kill or be killed, so to speak.
I can play those games, and sometimes my testosterone leads me right into it despite my natural desire to avoid it. I can be fiercely competitive, but it’s an overlay. When I feel the testosterone kick in, I want to run the opposite direction, but just don’t have that option.
Or maybe I do…