Apparently you've been subjected to these bloated, completely unrevealing profiles of Gawker Media millionaire and Brit nihilist Nick Denton recently not because he's looking to unload his company but because his boyfriend of four years dumped him. After New York magazine last week, The New Yorker this week devotes a numbing 9,600 words to Denton's successful poses and inability to open up. But there's this bit toward the end of Ben McGrath's fact piece, which sensitive readers may find a little dismissive about gay relationships and/or black conceptual artists:
"Denton recently split up with his boyfriend of four years, an African-American conceptual artist who made a show of hating bloggers and blogging, and who was, in turn, generally beloved by Denton’s friends and colleagues. The mere existence of the relationship, and Denton’s evident vulnerability in the wake of its demise, served to humanize the Gawker chief, whose public presentation had allowed no room for romanticism. “He didn’t understand my frenzy when I would get excited about a scoop,” Denton told me. “He’d say, ‘I can’t stand you like this.’ You know how journalists, or former journalists, turn into monsters when confronted by a big story? The adrenaline surges through your body, and you’re gleeful and unconcerned about civilian casualties, like a warrior going into battle.” A couple of Denton’s friends speculated to me that the breakup had been a contributing factor in his decision to coöperate with this profile, in the interest of projecting emotional availability. A certain person advised me, off the record, not to name the ex, out of respect for his parents, who may not be entirely comfortable with the possibility of their son’s being “caught up in the vortex,” as it were, of Internet celebrity. When I assented to this advice, and said, “Who cares what his name is, anyway?,” meaning New Yorker readers, this person looked hurt, and said, “That’s mean.”
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