So I had my normal uneventful new year’s which generally ends with me reflecting that, although the evening did not end how I wanted it to, at least tomorrow my sheets will still be freshly washed and my bedroom still clean. Part of the reason I haven’t been more aggressive about closing in on my target is that he’s just so gosh-darned more attractive than I am, so of course I feel that he is way out of my league. I am, as far as I can tell, hideous. And I’ve been meaning to blog more anyway. Unrelated statements? Not so much, thanks to Penny Arcade:
I’m sure it was meant to be grim, but for some reason that story about videogame characters giving men self-esteem issues as well had us in stitches. Part of it may be that we delight in terrible realities, our receptors for joy and despair being reversed…
“That story” refers to this article about how men and women rate their own bodies as less attractive after playing video games featuring, quoteunquote, extreme body types.
Richard Harris, (author of the research) said that his research shows that simply viewing the attractive game character for 15 minutes can negatively impact the player’s image of their own looks and body.
Judging from most of the gamers I hang out with, this is not yet a crises of our time: even the one who uses pro-anorexia sites as porn has yet to feel bad enough about his own appearance as to start caring about it. But it is interesting to see how quickly viewing completely fucked-up standards of sexy will start to fuck with your worldview, even if only in the short term. It’s also interesting – and probably more than a little telling – that given a situation with equally ridiculous standards (which aren’t even supposed to be standards) for both genders, each will respond with the self-doubt that is so necessary to selling both deodorant tampons and Axe products. Maybe it’s the 6 hours worth of chocolate martinis running through my system, but I actually find this heartening. It’s well known throughout the feminist blogosphere and beyond that no social problem actually matters until men care about it; that’s why the statement “if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament” is witty. Now that we finally have a venue where men and women both are made to feel poorly over the same stupid shit, maybe 2009 is the year everyone realizes that sticking a set of airbrushed boobs on every advertisement is kind of silly, we admit that we were foolish for letting it go on for so long as to saturate our collective ideals about what is attractive, ordinary non-feminist type people begin to understand what is meant by the ‘second sex’, and we move away from that shit. Everyone would begin to relax and we could have reasonable public discussions about the so-called women’s issues tha.
On the other hand, it’s probably the six hours worth of chocolate martinis.
I suppose it is my role in life to stand athwart history, yelling “Stop!” at people who think that a gin-less drink can be called a martini. I do not expect to win this fight, but my conscience compels me thus!
Also:
Reverse the genders and it’s exactly how I feel about someone I work with. Much sympathy, yo.
Part of the reason I haven’t been more aggressive about closing in on my target is that he’s just so gosh-darned more attractive than I am, so of course I feel that he is way out of my league.
Word. The story of my life.
My crackpot theory is this: Of course someone has to be attractive for me to be attracted to them but I am not attracted to myself, therefore everyone I am attracted to must be more attractive than I am.
I suppose it is my role in life to stand athwart history, yelling “Stop!” at people who think that a gin-less drink can be called a martini. I do not expect to win this fight, but my conscience compels me thus!
I see your point, but will continue to call them martinis.
“Part of the reason I haven’t been more aggressive about closing in on my target is that he’s just so gosh-darned more attractive than I am, so of course I feel that he is way out of my league.”
That’s what a wingman/wingwoman are for, to keep forcing drinks down your throat until you’ve got liquid confidence, then to goad you into going over to that person and snogging the bejeezus out of them.
Strange occurence for me – I also consider myself hideous. This girl I’m sleeping with, though, continuously refers to me as “sexy”. It’s strange and new to me, and I almost can’t help but think that she’s making fun of me, but then again other people have pointed out parts of me that I thought were garrish eyesores and mentioned they were cute (ie i had a cleft lip at birth, it’s still a bit funny looking, and one girl I went on a date with called it “very kissable”). So be gutsy, or nothing will ever happen, because he’s probably looking at you the same way.
TRH
This is why I like the PAB community. There are so few places on the internets where people will be so encouraging after you bare your whiny, boring soul to them.
I have a small but pronounced widow’s peak. A boyfriend years ago told me it made me look like Eddie Munster, but my current husband thinks it’s sexy.
I have absolutely no romantic advice. I’m on my third marriage and I’m only thirty-five. Clearly everybody should observe what I do and then do the exact opposite. I’m afraid even wishing Kyso luck will have some bad karmic effect on her, so I’m trying to project positive wishes without actually saying so outright.
I believe it was the Softer World guy who said if you can’t be a good example you have an obligation to be a horrible warning.
…but I actually find this heartening. It’s well known throughout the feminist blogosphere and beyond that no social problem actually matters until men care about it; that’s why the statement “if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament” is witty. Now that we finally have a venue where men and women both are made to feel poorly over the same stupid shit, maybe 2009 is the year everyone realizes that sticking a set of airbrushed boobs on every advertisement is kind of silly, we admit that we were foolish for letting it go on for so long as to saturate our collective ideals about what is attractive, ordinary non-feminist type people begin to understand what is meant by the ’second sex’, and we move away from that shit.
Indeed. Which is why I disagree heartily with those who will say, “Oh but we mustn’t objectify men like we do women. Two wrongs don’t make a right!” Sorry, but if there’s any other way to get men to understand and empathize with the pressure put on us besides making them feel it for themselves, I’m not aware of it.