One More Reason
There are so many reasons that I have problems being around people. But as I was out last night I was reminded of one of my least favorite things about socializing.
To wit: for some reason, guys think that it is their absolute unfettered right to publicly critique the appearance of any girl around them and deem it “appealing” or “non-appealing.” No detail is too small for their consideration! Outfits, hairstyles, skin tone, muscle tone, ass fat, cleavage, handbags - they’re all open to dissection, judgment and potential scorn.
And citizens, these are guys that I LIKE, acting this way. These guys are my friends. These are guys who read and are aware of politics, hold professional positions, make house payments, supposedly live in the real world. But they still feel as if every woman who walks into their line of vision has apparently spent her entire life waiting for just such an occasion to present herself to them, and they do not shy from filling out their mental scorecards on each aspect of her appearance. It’s like it doesn’t even occur to them that women exist for a purpose other than visual pleasure.
And these are not above-average guys, either. These are normal, everyday people with no special claim to attractiveness and/or eligibility.
My favorite (of many instances last night) was a guy who was complaining about the lead actress in a superhero movie, because she was unattractive. Her level of not-attractiveness (according to his discerning taste) was such that it made the entire movie unrealistic. OK then. That’s what made it impossible for you to suspend your disbelief in regards to a movie based on a COMIC BOOK. The actress, someone who is professionally beautiful, is not hot enough for you. Ruined the whole movie. Mmmhmmm.
What compounds the confusion for me is that I see the women that these same men are with. They’ve somehow attracted mates, a few of them. And they’re just regular women. Regular looks, a wide variety of ass sizes, weird teeth, imperfect skin, smeared lipstick… regular women. And I can’t figure out if the guys have two standards in their head, one to judge a woman they’re currently fucking (”she can have imperfections, I can’t do any better.”) and another to judge women on the street. (”Not allowed to have imperfections, must be completely hot.”) If this is the case, then apparently the “woman on the street” category is broad enough to encompass you and me while we run to Target to pick up toilet paper AND professional actresses on the red carpet who’ve had 3+ hours of prep time for their photo op.
I don’t know if the guys who do this understand what it feels like as a woman to sit and hear that kind of conversation. It fucking sucks. That casual dissection of the female appearance is just unsettling, stacked as it is on the assumption that women are supposed to be visually appealing at all times and if they aren’t then they’re somehow doing it wrong.
It’s especially disturbing when whatever flaw they’re discussing is one you have. There are some sensitivity issues here. For instance, it would never occur to me, when speaking to a guy with a weight problem or snaggly teeth or bad skin or thinning hair, to start negatively critiquing another guy with the same issue. Honestly, is that something that people really need to be reminded not to do? Like remembering not to say “God, I hate cripples!” when speaking to a person in a wheelchair? I mean, we all got that message when we were about five or six years old, didn’t we? So when a guy is talking to me and starts ragging on the appearance of a girl who is already way better looking than I am, how am I supposed to feel? Does that mean I am invisible, or just someone whose feelings don’t count? Am I supposed to assume that there are two standards, one for the “real” girl the guy is talking to now, and one for the plaything across the room? Because I am across the room from someone, and I know that I don’t look any better from over there than I do close up. So I can only assume that there is someone over there saying awful things about my body, my clothing, my hair. And hey, guess what? That makes me as paranoid as all fuck.
And I don’t understand what’s doing it. What’s made every single outing an adventure in hot-or-not? Is it the InterTubes? Is it Photoshop? Is it plastic surgery? Is it the impossible beauty standard created by already attractive women who are then surgeried and ’shopped into an even more ideal image that is in no way connected to reality? Or is it just man’s innate tendency to be a judgmental douche?
It’s all disheartening. It all makes me dislike other people. It all makes me dislike myself even more.
I suppose that one of these days I am going to internalize and grow numb to the fact that all guys will fuck anything that moves while constantly keeping their options open in case a much-more-perfect specimen comes along. That all guys assume we exist only in an attempt to please their eyes and get their dicks hard. That no man understands there’s more to a woman they see than… what they see. But today’s not that day. And last night was certainly not that night.
Filed under: anti-socialism, introversion, out and about, women's issues |2 Responses to “One More Reason”
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It’s horrible to be reminded that no matter what you achieve in life — no matter how successful you are by anyone’s standards, either male or female — if you’re a woman, the first thing that goes through a man’s head when he sees your picture on a Nobel Peace Prize story is to claim his right to judge how fuckable you are.
Thanks for writing it all up.
It makes me want to cut my hair super-short, let it go white, and just wear lip gloss and a bit of mascara now and then. Screw what men think is attractive. Who needs ‘em when you’ve got Babes in Toyland, anyways. A nicely molded slab of silicone never does stuff I don’t like, and I can pay a mechanic to work on my car.
One of the girls they were talking about is so goddamned adorable, too. Just as cute as she could be, sweet, intelligent, friendly - just someone you’d totally want to hang out with. And they were saying that her dress wasn’t flattering because her ass looked big in it. What the? I don’t know. Is having a fat ass the ultimate sin, no matter how cute, smart nice and adorable you are otherwise? The fact that she’s 98% perfect isn’t enough for you asstards? Perfect in looks, actions, thoughts and attitudes, that’s apparently the new standard.
Well, it makes me quote Jane Austen: