Let me tell you a tragicomedy starring a good friend of mine. For the sake of anonymity (and because it fits), we’ll call him Mark.

We'll call him Mark for this story because he is in some ways a caricature of the character Mark Corrigan from the TV Show "Peep Show" If you're not familiar with the show, don't worry as I'll touch on this more later.

Now on paper, Mark is a man that has it all.

He's in his 30s. He's good looking. Social. Smart. Charismatic when he wants to be. The kind of guy women notice. He’s a beast on the dance floor - salsa, bachata, all that Latin wizardry. Women literally queue up to be spun around by him. He’s got his life in order. Job, fitness, apartment, hobbies, social life.

But beneath the surface Mark has cripplingly low self-esteem. Social anxiety. A deep-rooted belief that he’s always one misstep away from being found out and left behind.

And that’s exactly where this story begins.

The Fling

As I mentioned earlier, Mark is a master of the dance floor. Every week he goes to his dance club and has many attractive women fawning over him.

Unfortunately for Mark, his mix of low self esteem and pure obliviousness mean that he often misses these opportunities. Remaining blissfully unaware of the women giving him obvious signals to pursue them further.

At some point Mark meets a rather dashing woman. Recently divorced, beautiful, classy - the kind of woman who turns heads the moment she walks into a room.

Out of sheer dumb luck, Mark's pure obliviousness to her signals and advances play to his advantage, and she begins to chase the man who seems unattainable.

To give you some context on just how far this obliviousness goes - this woman had invited herself to his apartment under some obviously bullshit pretense. She was due to arrive at around 10pm and had offered to bring wine.

I don't think a woman could give a clearer signal that she was DTF if she tried. But Mark, well Mark, still genuinely believed that she was just being friendly and was merely coming over to drink wine.

Despite all of his obliviousness, and failure to even make a move, he somehow managed to seal the deal. She made the move on him - and the rest, as they say, is history.

To Marks credit, for the next few weeks he managed to not fumble the bag, and secures himself a rather good "plate".

She comes over, they fuck, she leaves. Minimal investment. No strings attached. Mark is happy.

But then the tell tale signs begin to emerge that she is beginning to catch feelings. I warn Mark that pretty soon she's going to spring "the talk" on him, and that he's going to need to prepare for it.

He says, “Yeah yeah, I know. I’ll handle it.”

He won’t.

The Creep of Compliance

A few more weeks pass and, surprisingly, the talk hasn't materialised yet. But what has materialised, is the slow erosion of Mark's autonomy.

She doesn’t drink - suddenly, he’s dry too. She’s vegan - suddenly, he’s cutting back on meat. She’s a runner - now he’s waking up at 6am for a “light 5k”.

The rather abrupt change in lifestyle is obviously apparent. On the surface, it looks like personal growth. But that’s just Mark’s hamster spinning furiously to convince him it’s about his well being, not hers.

It’s not change, it’s appeasement.

This isn’t scarcity - it’s a man who lacks the backbone to say no, who can’t handle the discomfort of standing his ground. So instead of being himself, he appeases her to avoid awkwardness.

The Talk

Eventually, it happens.

A quiet evening. Soft lighting. Maybe a homemade curry. A glass of red wine. They’ve just fucked, or cuddled, or whatever it is that normal guys do with someone they’re “not really dating”. She looks at him with that unmistakable look, one that says:

“We’re about to have a conversation that will determine the next 6-9 months of your life whether you like it or not.”

And then, like a hand grenade disguised as a friendly inquiry, she drops it:

“Sooo… what are we?”

Boom. There it is. The words detonate in the air like a mortar shell loaded with repressed feelings.

Time stops.

To us, this would be a moment for clarity. Honesty. Leadership.

But to Mark? This is DEFCON 1. Internal systems crash. Panic sirens wail inside his skull. All he can think is:

“Oh god. It’s happening. This is the moment. The question I’ve been dreading. The conversational guillotine. This is the emotional landmine I was warned about and I’m about to step right on it. Can I just pretend I didn’t hear her? Maybe cough loudly? No, too suspicious. Say something clever. Say something cool.”

Meanwhile, she’s just sitting there, expectant. Hopeful. Probably planning out their Christmas market selfies in her head.

He considers telling the truth. He almost opens his mouth to say:

“Honestly, I’m enjoying things as they are. I’m not looking for anything exclusive right now.”

Instead, his lips betray him. His anxiety presses send on a message his heart never wrote.

“Yeah… I guess we’re exclusive now?”

Said in the exact tone of a man agreeing to a third helping of lasagna out of politeness or a hostage reading a statement to the media.

And just like that, it’s done. Relationship status: upgraded. Not by intention but by sheer social embarrassment.

She beams. Hugs him. Kisses him.

He smiles back, dead inside.

Mark the Martyr

Fast forward a few weeks, and it’s painfully obvious that Mark is completely and utterly miserable.

He shows up to hang with the boys in the local beer garden. A wonderful summers day. Of course, he can't have any beers, he gave those up. So Mark's on the 0% ones instead.

They're just as good as the real ones he insists - said like a prisoner trying to convince himself that the food in the gulag is “actually fine, once you get used to it”.

The evening goes relatively well. Well, it would have gone well, if Mark was actually there.

Every five minutes there's a buzz as Mark's phone goes off.

“Sorry lads, just need to reply real quick.”

She needs constant reassurance. Updates. Emojis. He’s present, but absent. Smiling, but strained.

And worst of all, he knows it.

This isn’t who he is. It’s who he’s become in his desperate attempt to avoid loss, discomfort, and confrontation.

Less than 2 hours later, Mark makes a hurried excuse that he needs to leave and bolts out of the venue.

Stuck by Awkwardness, Not Scarcity

Mark isn’t the classic beta clutching his “one and only” like a lifebuoy in a stormy sea.

No, it’s worse. He’s a man who willingly stepped into the boat, convinced it was a casual paddle, only to realise halfway through that he’s now captaining a ship he never wanted to sail.

What makes this all the funnier, or more tragic depending on your viewpoint, is that Mark doesn't even really like this woman.

He agreed to exclusivity not because he wanted to, but because the moment was awkward, the words stumbled out, and saying no felt like admitting to a heinous crime.

It wasn’t love or desperation that trapped him, it was his own crippling inability to face confrontation head-on. Now he’s locked in a relationship by default, bound by his own awkwardness and social embarrassment, fumbling through texts he doesn’t want to send and moments he doesn’t want to live.

This isn’t about oneitis or scarcity, it’s about the silent power of discomfort that makes a man fold, not because he lacks options, but because he can’t bear the short-term pain of setting a boundary.

Mark Corrigan, the Beta Blueprint

For those unfamiliar, Mark Corrigan is the painfully awkward, conflict-averse protagonist of the British sitcom Peep Show. He embodies the “New Man” archetype: sensitive, agreeable, and emotionally available, but ultimately paralysed by a fear of confrontation and rejection.

This archetype, heavily promoted in the 90s and early 00s, was meant to be the evolution of masculinity. Gentle, non-threatening, and in touch with feelings. But in practice, it often leaves men like him, and like our Mark, trapped in situations they don’t want, unable to say no, and drowning in social anxiety.

Our Mark’s story echoes this perfectly. Despite his looks, social skills, and hobbies, he folds when the stakes rise, agreeing to exclusivity not from genuine desire, but from sheer emotional embarrassment and the dread of facing even mild confrontation. He sacrifices his own boundaries and desires to avoid awkwardness, slowly losing himself while trying to please someone else.

This is the wider problem with the New Man: niceness born from fear isn’t strength. Avoiding conflict isn’t maturity, it’s submission. Being agreeable at all costs doesn’t earn respect or desire; it erases a man’s agency and leadership. Men taught to prioritize others’ comfort over their own truth often end up tolerated but invisible, liked but not chosen.

Real masculinity is about setting boundaries, speaking clearly, and sometimes saying no, even when it’s uncomfortable. Because the moment you stop leading your own life, you stop being a man in the fullest sense. Don’t be the New Man who disappears. Be the man who stands for himself.

As for our Mark, who knows where this story will take him. This isn't the first tragic and hilarious situation that he's got himself roped into, and I have no doubts whatsoever that it won't be the last. I will be watching closely over the next few months as the saga continues.