I remember the exact time and place a girl first called me ugly. It was High School summer break. I was at the pool with some friends and let me preface this next sentence with the following clause: I was at the peak of my assholeness.
A ferociously unattractive woman swam across the pool towards me as I sat in a lounge chair. As she got closer, I could see in her eyes this clearly wasn’t going to end well. I had hoped she would approach one of my less fortunate friends but she walked right up to me and asked my name. I told her. She then asked if I had a girlfriend. I said no. She then asked me for my number. I said no. She then asked me why not and I responded rather nonchalantly, “Because you’re ugly.”
I don’t know if it was because of how bluntly I stated it or because I had no reaction after saying it but she stood motionless for a few seconds. After collecting herself, she responded “No, mother [expletive], YOU ugly!” And that was the last time someone called me ugly to my face – until today.
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Recently I was at a bar when what I mistook for a cute white girl came within arms distance. I found out later she was Brazilian. For kicks and giggles you can use your own formulaic methodologies to determine how high one’s BAC has to be in order to mistake a Brazilian for a Caucasian.
As I wrote about here, I don’t even like the club anymore. For that reason I kept the conversation short and to the point. I asked if she had a man, she said no, I asked for her name, told her mine and then got the number.
But the next day I couldn’t remember what this girl looked like. All I knew is that I had a new number in my phone and I vaguely recalled obtaining it from some short-haired white girl. I called and she remembered I had on a “white shirt.” A fact I could not confirm, because I couldn’t remember what color shirt I had on or if I had a shirt on at all. I took her word for it.
We spoke briefly – but she managed to inform me that she was from Brazil. Anyone who knows me knows I like Latinas, so I was instantly intrigued. To ensure we accurately remembered what each other looked like we decided to exchange photos.
– PAUSE –
I’ve written before about traumatic events that have taken place in my past where I talk to what I think are fine women under the guise of dimmed lights and eyes blurred by Patron shots only to find out when I see them under the full UV spectrum of sunlight that they are nothing more than wildebeests in name brand clothing. Therefore, I am in no position to judge the ‘lets exchange pictures because I have no idea what you look like even though I met you last night’ game.
– PLAY –
I’d just left the gym but considering we’d already met, I didn’t think anything of snapping a quick pic before I hopped in the shower. I never heard back (and never received a picture *angry face*) but I was sleepy and didn’t think much of it.
A couple days later I followed up to see if she planned on ever forwarding me one. She responded: Look, no offense but I was on that liquor the night I met you. You’re not my type. Please delete my number.
Folks, I was really planning to let it go at that. I swear I was! I respected and admired her honesty, but then my ego got the best of me. I mean I’m 27 years old – and I’ve only been called “ugly” once and that was by a girl I called ugly first.
As seconds became minutes and minutes became ….5 whole minutes my ego started to LOSE HIS DAMN MIND. He kept asking: “WTF was THAT suppose to mean? Is she saying without the influence of liquor she no longer finds us attractive!?! Is she somehow implying that we’re ugly? O, HELL NAH!”
At this point it became less about whether she found me attractive or unattractive and more about principle. I didn’t want to be casually dismissed based on a 3.2 megapixel pic I snapped haphazardly outside the gym, LOL.
I recommended she visit this very website. She might even be reading this very sentence. In any case, if after seeing me in a more appropriate setting she felt the same way, then I guess there’s a first time for everything – or in this case, a second.
Once I was finally able to get my ego in check I recognized the absurdity of my reaction. I mean who the hell do I think I am to assume I am EVERYBODY’s type? Especially since I’m superficial as hell my damn self. I’ve spent a lifetime dismissing women simply because they don’t rank high enough on my arbitrary superficial scale and the SECOND a woman does the same to me, I flip out?
PATHETIC.
Today for an entire five minutes I felt the tinge of insecurity most self conscious or unattractive people experience their whole lives and I couldn’t handle it. This made me wonder.
For someone who has ‘cocky’ tattooed across his stomach – which I got not because I consider myself cocky, or ever have, but because everyone else called me cocky – am I really? Is the majority of my so called self-esteem based on the appreciation and adulation I’ve received from others over the years? Have I taken these devilish good looks and southern charms and the tangible and intangible benefits they have afforded me for granted? Had I gone so long having my ass kissed that I forgot what it was like to have it kicked?
This was a very eye-opening albeit traumatizing experience. I learned a lot about myself today, which of course I’m sure I’ll promptly forget tomorrow – but still.
So folks, has this ever happened to you or have you ever had to deliver some devastating news like the message described above? Conversely, have you always been attractively challenged and what I’ve described is nothing more than the status quo for you? What’s that like?
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