Okay, so here’s a thing about last night’s Louie: Louie was angrier when Pamela tried to leave his house without kissing him than he was when she threw out all his furniture. A lot angrier.
That’s pretty messed up.
As bad as the almost-rape episode from two weeks ago was, this week’s pair bothered me more. Because the kind of pressure he was putting on Pamela this time was a hell of a lot more insidious.
Going in for the kiss when you don’t know if it’ll be reciprocated. Mooning around someone instead of asking them out. Wheedling to get someone in the sack instead of finding out whether they’re interested in doing so under their own steam. That constant push to get what you want, and then the pout when you don’t get it — every fucked up coercive trick guys pull to nag and guilt and cajole women into sleeping with them was on display on Louie last night.
And why? Because Louie’s goal was never to figure out whether he and Pamela could work together in a way that would work for both of them. His goal was always just to get her. Get her to kiss him. Get her to go on a date with him. Get her to fuck him. Get her to be his girlfriend. Get get get get get.
And no matter how often we get told that that’s romantic, it’s not. Because the getting isn’t about Pamela, and it’s not about them as a couple. It’s all about him. It’s always about him, just like it was with Amia, just like it’s been with every woman this season. And instead of interrogating that, instead of thinking about how we as men are constantly being socialized into that creepy predator role and brainstorming how to unlearn it — or having Pamela call him on his shit in a way that would have been far more shocking, far more transgressive, far more useful than the monologue he gave the fat woman last month — he gave his creep the happy ending.
Louis the writer populates his show with fascinating, smart women, but Louie the character has no interest in them. And since I figured that out, I’ve got a lot less interest in him.