‘Nerds’ must learn to be responsible for their social actions, too

Insomnia drives me to channel surf, and I ride the 2 a.m. wave to "Revenge of the Nerds" (1984). Hard to believe I first saw this movie 24 years ago. So, on top of not being able to sleep, now I'm old and not able to sleep.

It's a movie of gross caricatures -- of nerds, of jocks, of adolescent sexuality, of bullies, of blacks and of social bigotry. I blush to admit the movie thoroughly entertains me. Makes me laugh. Makes me wait in anticipation for lines I have long since memorized.

The entire movie is worth meeting the character of Dudley Dawson ("Booger"), who, while himself a nerd suffering social derision, simultaneously exploits and derides fellow nerd Toshiro Takashi, whose language barriers and nerdishness render him unaware of his own humiliation.

You gotta love the irony of a Darwinian social pecking order even at the bottom of the social barrel.

Everyone recognizes nerds, though in most social circles it's fashionable to pretend you do not. Actually, you can't miss them.

Does the word "nerd" have a working definition? Try this on: A nerd is someone who chronically can't/won't recognize and conform to a median understanding of normal social customs and interpersonal cues.

They laugh too loudly in places where everyone else understands the decorum of quiet. They routinely misapprehend "personal space." They adopt affected facial expressions inappropriate for the tone, pace and relative intimacy of the surrounding conversations. They are impervious to the shifting awkwardness, obvious discomfort and polite smiles of people trying desperately to pretend their jokes are funny. They are stubbornly oblivious to or sincerely uninterested in matters of wardrobe fashion and hairstyle.

You have to tell them when the party is over. You have to ask them to go home.

Yes, these same behaviors can be observed in people with certain developmental disabilities, but that is a separate discussion. A nerd behaves thusly not as a function of congenitally limited IQ.

I was raised to be nice to everyone, and to have particular empathy for social misfits and outcasts. Later, people said that nerds were especially courageous because they were social nonconformists. Other folks asked me to consider that these people were special, that they heard the beat of a different drum. Still others suggested that any discomfort, impatience or desire to avoid on my part was evidence of my narrow social mind-set and general lack of enlightenment about the supreme value of "differences."

Essentially I was raised to feel sorry for nerds; failing that, to see them as inspirational. But somewhere in the past several years, I've changed my mind. I no longer feel sorry for nerds. Or make excuses for them. Or persecute them.

I want them to be responsible for who they are. Same as I expect from myself.

There is nothing virtuous or valuable about nonconformity per se. Nothing especially inspirational about ignoring the "Quiet Please" sign at the library. Not caring what others think does not necessarily indicate courage.

I more and more wonder if nerdness is just another strategy -- unconscious, as with most interpersonal strategies -- for getting noticed, for entering and joining community, for belonging, for managing intimacy and in some cases for controlling relationships.

But even if I'm wrong about that, "It's OK to be different" is a saccharine and silly message unless we add "but you are responsible for those differences, especially if the differences significantly contradict the mainstream of social custom."

Some folks are without a social "feedback loop." They either don't notice the perceptions of others, or don't care. But this is psychological immaturity. We are social creatures. A well-socialized (psychologically mature) person modulates and conforms his behavior to some reasonable degree as an act of hospitality and good manners. Healthy people aren't slaves to social custom, but neither do they carelessly eschew custom, or recklessly disregard it.

When nerds come to therapy and complain of social isolation, I don't launch into an "It's OK to be different" speech. I urge them, gently, to examine how their behavior and habituated persona might predictably result in the consequence of other people's discomfort, awkwardness and eventual withdrawal.

Then, of course, they are free to learn to be more sensitive to social cues. They are equally free to change nothing at all.

But now it's a choice. For which they can be responsible.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling Wellness Center in Las Vegas and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@ reviewjournal.com.