Let's talk about beauty. My beauty to be precise. Ha!
Seriously, here's the back story; I've thought way too much about this in the last 24 hours and need to write some words to get it out of the head. Earlier this year, on some random weekend, I found myself waiting for friends at Exile. I was dressed in the ordinary uniform; a v-neck tee and jeans. The shirt was probably black or dark grey/brown since it was a weekend night. Unless I'm in some ridiculous blouse or the rare tank top when Timmy isn't around to judge, I don't venture too far from that proven formula. I remember feeling particularly happy and attractive that night for no apparent reason. Despite picking up some "Ohio" weight, this has been a good year and forty is proving to be quite fabulous. This particular one was just a good day and gearing up to be a fun night with friends.
Yum; Hot nuts, red wine, and warm towel break before the meal! Did I mention being luxuriously seated in First Class?
The Exile bartender and I struck up a conversation because it was early enough to not be very busy. He complimented me on a tattoo and then said something like, "You are so f'n hot and you probably don't even know it." I was crushed. It seemed he was attracted to me because I was overly white trashy, or poor looking, or bearish, or fat, or some other non-traditional reason that attracts one person to another. This is quite common at a place like Exile where the non-traditional is exhaulted. (Picture three hot dudes making out with a 400 lb man in a harness and kilt). I didn't want to be one of those "other" people who didn't fit the classic definition of beauty or have the confidence to realize they were attractive in some way. I wanted to be a universally beautiful Details Magazine cover boy. You know, the one with great hair, white teeth, a lean muscular body, and youthful sexiness locked down with some degree of fame or fortune. While I didn't dwell on it too long, in some weird way, the incident lingered. It was frustrating and perhaps even subconsciously inspired my late Summer fitness quest. I wanted to be be proud of my masculine beauty and not one who couldn't even recognize his own appeal. I certainly didn't want to be placed in some niche gay classification; I wanted universal acceptance.
Skip forward to last night. This has been a particular busy work week with major projects, annual reviews, and working dinners giving me little time to relax or clear the head. It was early, about 7:30, when I got out of the office so I decided to change clothes and step out for a bit. I put on 'the uniform' and hopped in my Toyota Tacoma pick up truck rental. It is Dallas. Feeling sexy and butch, I hit the Dallas Eagle for a happy hour cocktail. The place is usually good for conversation with a friendly local or another business traveler without too much Dallitude. However, work beckoned and I sat at the bar with my nose buried in the iPhone responding to email. At least it wasn't in my lonely hotel room where I usually do this very same thing. Bypassing the 2 Gingers Irish Whiskey special, I enjoyed a nice citrus vodka and headed out for a quick dinner at Hunky's. Being relatively early and feeling good, I decided to swing back by the Eagle for a nightcap. The crowd was pretty decent earlier and I hoped to strike up a conversation and forget about work.
There were several friendly folks at the bar. I positioned myself near some youthful eye candy and ordered a drink. A couple of guys started conversation about living in California and some other random nothingness. They were perfectly pleasant and the conversation spurred some laughter and decent mindless stories. The conversation shifted and I found myself talking to just one dude. He proceeded to tell me how shocked he was that I was friendly and pleasant to talk to because he had seen me earlier, before leaving for dinner. While I was busy working, he was apparently watching me and thinking about how hot and how arrogant I looked. He was just sure that I "knew" how hot I was based on my body language. He knew I wouldn't talk to him or anyone in the bar. I was crushed. While this was exactly the kind of self assured sexy hot I wanted back in the Summer, this man's perception was absolutely not who I think I am or want to be.
All of this is likely nothing but sometimes we get stuck on perception and what it means. Admittedly, too much brain power has been wasted on these two situations. I want to be hot. I want to have confidence. I try not to care what people think of me as long as they like me. It's human nature even though I hate when people say that. I don't want people to think I'm arrogant or unapproachable or that my ego is too big for my own good. What's different about these two nights and the drastically different interactions and perceptions? I know that I won't ever be magazine cover beautiful or twenty two or have the perfect body but I am ok with this. How do I need to act to ensure a positive portrayal of who I want to be and why should anyone really "act" like anything. If being myself, which I was in both scenarios, leads to such different perceptions, what do you do? Was the work mindset giving me a different demeanor? Was driving a butch truck impacting my attitude? Why have I written thirty five pages on this? Why do I always make a long story longer? Why isn't there some useful life lesson here? Let's see if rambling on helps or if I think about this again. I probably should edit.
Oh. Sorry about that kilt visual earlier on the post. Some people really get into that and it is totally ok! It's about time to land. I'm exhausted.
No comments:
Post a Comment