A Bad Man in a Bad Place

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Back in the days of the Nerve Boards, I befriended a woman who went by the nickname StarryNight (and honey, if you’re reading, email me, eh?)

She described herself, when we discussed it, as “Not Ugly.”  Her picture belied this, she was more than not ugly, she was downright beautiful.  I wondered why she said that she was not ugly, and she told me that only assholes pursue women because of how they look.  I was taken aback, at age 24, ranking women by a scale of 1-10, and being your typical 20-something brat.

I got over that as I got older, and the women I dated were all over the map.  They all had one thing in common, though, which is that I liked them as people.

When people ask how I get away with what I get away with, and make no mistake, I “get away” with a lot, the reason, I tell them, is that I’m not ugly.  I’m nowhere near as attractive as Starry Night was, but I understand her point now.

When I was in bed with a woman awhile ago and she told me how hot I was, I got really uncomfortable.  I’m sure it was meant as dirty talk and as a compliment, but at that moment, I felt like such a piece of meat that it really didn’t help the mood.  No matter how good looking I am or am not, what is inside me is what matters and that, right now, is a bit screwed up.

I think what I’m saying is two different things.  I’ve come back here because I am in a new and entirely different Bad Place, and when they say beauty is skin deep, it’s true.  Beware of too many compliments, they’re difficult on the people who receive them.

Note - I’m not Brad Pitt by any stretch, but my results may not be replicable by all audience members because I am Not Ugly.