Wait a Minute– Am I Attractive?

Somebody called me “attractive” last night.  For the first time that it was actually meaningful.  Because every other time it’s either been:

a)     in response to my saying “Jesus Christ, my face looks like it was hit with a fucking shovel.”

b)    a horny gay guy trying to get laid or

c)     an even less attractive friend saying “Jesus, you must have it so easy, you’re attractive.”  To him, I am “attractive” just like to a Somali war orphan the guy clocking fifteen grand a year at Arby’s is “rich.”

Or it was my friends, or my girlfriend, or my mom, etc.  I don’t believe any of them.  For my entire life it has been my absolute bedrock belief that I am a hideous unlovable mutant whom no woman could let her eyes linger on for even a second lest she gag.  And this is borne up by reality, because no women ever look at me, talk to me; no woman ever makes the first move to approach me, ever.  Gays do it all the time, but you know, I hit on fat chicks all the time.  Gays want to fuck me the same way a drunk guy wants to fuck his couch.

And here’s the crazy part about this- it is an ego trip basically.  Because the idea is, you know- I get laid all the fucking time.  Sure I have to work for it, scrabble hard, fail.  I endure humiliating rejection constantly; I have to go out when I’m cranky and tired if there’s the barest chance of pussy at some shitty party, constantly.  I have to troll the internet for good-bone-structure-but-slightly-overweight types, constantly.  I get pussy the way a farmer can wring a niggardly living out of a few acres of non-arable land by backbreakingly digging out rocks with his bleeding fingers, by trapping each miserly trickle of rain into his pathetic drought-choked crops, etc.  Whereas for an attractive guy it’s like living on a hundred hectares of prime, you know.  A lush, verdant paradise where the soil is made from cow shit and all you have to do is kick back and harvest the fruit that falls.

Anyway, it’s an ego trip, because I have always thought: “Jesus, I am ugly as fuck and I still get laid.  Therefore, my personality must be SO GOD DAMN MAGNETIC that women (occasionally) can’t resist me despite their gut telling them to flee from this beast.”  That’s what the frame has been for me my whole life.

But then this chick, she is talking about hiring me on to make youtube videos for her company that makes advertisements.  And she says “I think you’ll do well because, you know, just say shit like your blogs, and you’re attractive.”  And the needle fell off the record for a second.  This chick is gay, so there’s no she’s interested in me and is saying I’m attractive for wanting to date me reasons.  She said I’m attractive as part of a cold, mercenary calculation about whether my face might be used to accrue youtube subscribers that Axe Body Spray™ might pay three dollars per head per year for.  I have never before received the information that I’m attractive in such a convincing manner.

So—wait a minute.  Am I fucking attractive?  Have girls actually been sleeping with me because of my fucking LOOKS?  And they just never approach me or make the first move because, well, women are so fucking entitled to do absolutely nothing, ever, that even an average looking woman will only lift a finger to hit on a guy who looks like 1994 Casper Van Dien?

And what does this mean?  Am I merely a good looking dude, and women are tolerating me in SPITE of my fucking grating, maddening personality?  And they secretly wish I would just shut the fuck up and fuck them?

It’s like, when Buckminster Fuller was asked whether he believed in aliens. And he was like “maybe there are, and maybe there aren’t.  Either way, it’s mind-blowing.”