I've always dated ugly guys. Mostly because they were so lucky to have me because I'm so pretty. Such benevolence in a person is hard to come by, but I had it. I did. Truthfully, I've always felt fulfilled, committed to my civic duty of allowing these offenses to society to feel significantly better about themselves and their place in the world. By having Pretty Me by their side, these hamburglars could get what truly matters in life, what they could never get on their own because they're so ugly -- envy from their peers, better tables at restaurants, the total myth of the faint hope of the possibility of an even more attractive next girlfriend. But after spending most of my twenties lost in rolls of fat, suffocated by stinky ugly man farts and the resentment that often builds between the Pretty and the Ugly, I've decided that being a selfless humanitarian is just overrated. The time has come for me to grow up. To take charge of my life. To focus on me and what I want.
And for the first time in my life, I know what I want:
A Hot Guy.
See, I'm done. Done with fat. Done with the farts. I'm done with it all. I want a Hot Guy. A Hot Guy who will blind me into forgetting that he has no job, no apartment, no bank account. But whatever, I say. That's what women's lib was for, right?
Most people think I'm insane.
"Oh, the Hot Guy will Twitter pics of his penis to college girls!"
and,
"Oh the Hot Guy will have an illegitimate child with the housekeeper!"
or,
"Oh the hot guy will rob you!"
Really? Really now. I might be alone in this, but I don't think any of that is all that bad. (Although if someone robbed me, I'd be pissed; my high-end discounted shoe and handbag collection took a long time to put together.) The thing is, everyone has the potential for lewd, crude, and dishonest behavior. Even ugly people. But no one writes about them because they're so ugly. Why else would they be flashing penis on their computer instead of chatting up poor, defenseless, underage coeds at a bar?
Why? Because they're ugly. And no one ever really likes ugly.
That's right. No one. If you think back to the last time nothing mattered, did you ever say to yourself 'oh, Guraraghi Vinkaghi is winning all those science competitions, let me snag him' -- or 'oh, Matt will surely leave me for a younger woman, he has washboard abs, a perfect smile, and spiky yet cool hair'. Although you might have asked yourself 'why aren't I dating my male best friend who is a great dancer, fabulous dresser, and cohort to late night lip synching?'
I digress.
The point is this: Ugly doesn't mean stability, security, or even monogamy. Ugly just means Ugly. So why not date Hot? (Although I suppose if what you really want is Rich, then this article really won't serve you well. You probably have to go shopping right about now.)
I want Hot. I know it's the right thing to want. For this past weekend I attended a wedding by myself and actually didn't want to kill myself. Although the wedding did force me into thinking about my dating past and witness everyone else's choices, I found myself happily gnawing on cocktail hour, waiting for Hot to arrive. And just then, somewhere between choking on a shrimp tail and my fourteenth cosmopolitan, I spotted my former life: a Beauty and her Beast.
Shock overcame me.
Not because I'd never seen a beast so ugly or a beauty so beautiful (I mean come on), but because I saw their future flash right before my eyes; a future I know all too well: an ominous dinner invitation to Tio Pepe's... she will wait to leave... he will cry into his two for one Coors Lights... there he will decide that stalking her is a good idea but not consider it stalking.
I wanted to warn her. I wanted to scream from the ice sculpture "Stop! Just stop! Financial security and stability is NOT the stuff good relationships are built on! Looks are!"
But I got distracted. I couldn't help but notice how many ugly guys surrounded me. Oh how I would never feign a future with any of them! Never! And as the night progressed, I thought, wow, there's nothing worse than an ugly guy who can't dance -- I'd never seen so many unwarranted arm thrusts and head bobs. I felt as though a crime had been committed by my having to bear witness to that.
And then I saw him. The one guy who could dance. When a guy can dance, it's just Hot.
Yep, I decided, I'll take him.