“It’s like she’s cultivating these idiosyncrasies to make up for the fact that she has absolutely no personality.” So Carrie Bradshaw says to Big of their uppity Upper East Side host after Carrie can’t get a glass of red wine because the former insists on not serving “brown liquids.” But this faux weirdness and sensitivity has extended far more to the “male” gender in recent years.
More than just “being awkward,” the ersatz eccentricity of most “men” in the North Brooklyn area stems from a latent guilt over not actually being in any way interesting, least of all “crazy.” His desperate desire to seem somehow worthy of the position he’s gained in life (e.g. a high-rise condo in Williamsburg) compels him to act in a way that others–especially women–will view as bizarre and esoteric, therefore at least offering a mild excuse for why he’s otherwise unable to function in the real world.
But underneath it all (not that there’s that many substrata to the counterfeit crazy “man”), he is bland–stark-ravingly normal. And ultimately that’s what drives him to madness.