There aren’t that many varying degrees of waifs. Generally speaking, they all, of course, look like twigs, say very little to the contrary and occasionally indicate just how much their father fucked them up as a child. But a very specific kind melds the worst shrewish elements of Ayn Rand and Nicole Kidman into her persona, idolizing both women in different and unwitting ways.

For those unfamiliar with the philosophy of Rand, the gist is: pursue your own happiness, fuck everyone else. And don’t feel guilty about anything that might happen to the “looters” or “moochers” weighing you down from your own success. It’s called objectivism, and a lot of waifs dig it. It’s why they get so far ahead in life–the self-discipline of not eating. But in addition to an objectivist philosophy, the nightmare composite waif must also be glib, mirroring Kidman’s Trump-driven comment of late, “I’m always reticent to start commenting politically; I’ve never done it in terms of America or Australia. I’m issue-based. So I just say, he’s now elected, and we as a country need to support whoever is the president because that’s what the country’s based on.”

What’s the common denominator (the only good math metaphor in existence, by the way) between these two women? Extreme callousness, paleness and overarching insensitivity. The “man” that fetishizes a waif that likes to embody both is, therefore, hoping she’s some sort of bedroom Houdini–where else is she going to channel all that hidden warmth?–or a true “intellect” of his caliber (though this also entails that she’ll only speak when spoken to). Either that, or he secretly enjoys the masochistic feel of being coldly regarded. It’s the sort of self-hatred that comes from missing a dick.