On Good-Looking People

On Good-Looking People

Usually, before I work out, I just wash the body and the hair and put on some eyeliner so my eyes don’t disappear into my moon face. But a few days ago, I decided to put on the lady make-up and get Cute for some reason.

Which was a good move, as it turns out, because guess who I knocked into at the YMCA? Hot Tattooed Guy.

So, this time, because I wasn’t sweaty yet and still had my Decent Face on, I went near him to get a good look.

You guys, he was not cute. His body was lovely, but the head wasn’t working for me. I didn’t really notice this on the first encounter. I must have been all googly-eyed by his tattoos and such.

But that first time, I also didn’t look him in the face very close. Because whenever I’m around Really Good-Looking People (esp. males), I’m sort of afraid of them. I sort of want to erase away my footsteps like the Untouchables in Arundati Roy’s The God of Small Things (fucking awesome book, by the way).

I’m embarrassed about how my disheveled appearance might disturb the Good-Looking Person. Not that they will start crying or something. But just that seeing someone who’s ho-hum and meh would be kind of – I don’t know –  a bummer to them? Since they meet every mirror with so much delight, casting their gaze upon something less-than-stellar might really ruin their mood?

This is an inflated, simplistic conception of Really Good-Looking People, especially when I know that some of them are completely null in terms of personality, given that they must spend so much time considering their bodies and faces and clothing and such. Those concerns take away valuable time from other hobbies of note that make people worth talking to for longer than five minutes. Still, I have this strange worry about being around Really Good-Looking People. As if they’re royalty or sensitive pregnant women or something, beings that must only listen to Mozart and Bach and contemplate faces that adhere to the standard of Perfect Greek Thirds. Like something filthy or wretched or even average might sully their own perfection in some way, like a beggar’s dirty hand grabbing at the hem of a bejeweled dress.

I sound really crazy so I either suspect that I’m telling too much of the truth or that I’m not making sense. Here endeth the reading.

2 Comments

  • Carrie on Jan 17, 2012 Reply

    That is very interesting, Ela. I wonder if she actually ever told her boyfriend that. Can you imagine – “I picked you so that it wouldn’t be all about me and gorgeousness-osity-ation.”

    Sometimes, though, there are people I’ve met that are really good-looking but their awareness of it so distended that it makes me feel comfortable, as if they’ve got a I’m A Good-Looking Douche thought bubble over their heads and I can just relax.

  • Ela on Jan 17, 2012 Reply

    No, I totally get what you’re talking about. That somehow super-good-looking people are elevated and hard-to-talk-to.

    But–I have an anecdote. When I was living in HI, on a community farm, my favorite era in my time there was when two of my cohorts, who were dating each other, was an incredibly beautiful girl around my age, and a not-at-all-good-looking but incredibly cool and smart guy several years younger.
    Despite my “not worthy” feeling around good looking people, the girl and I were really good friends. And one time, we were talking about another guy we knew who was absolutely stunning. I said, “he’s good looking for a guy like you are for a girl.” Her answer? “I don’t like guys who are that good looking.” I can’t remember her reasoning exactly, but
    it was something to do with being so good-looking herself but not wanting that to be the only thing people saw about her, and being with less good looking guys helped to take the attention away from it.

Leave Reply