Like Me, But So, So Much Worse
I rolled into Gainesville a few nights ago with Cliff and after demanding we eat at the first Chipotle I saw we proceeded to the apartment of a friend of his. Now Cliff had told me stories of this guy, about how he was a power lifter and ran triathlons and was one of the best looking guys he knew and yet still managed to have little if any luck with women. And I could see such a thing being the case in a hot-guy hotbed like Miami or LA or New York, but in Gainesville? A college town? C’mon. When your major competition are guys whose income is derived from Student Loans and Work Study, you really have no excuse if you are anything over an 8.
So I meet his friend, we will call him Ryan, and Cliff was not joking. I am secure enough to tell you when a guy is good-looking, and this guy fits the bill. I am even secure enough to say when a guy is better looking than me, which he also was. A little shorter, but ripped with size, a great tan and blue eyes. Okay, enough gayness, suffice to say the guy was probably around a male 9. The first thing Cliff asks him after the customary “Hello” and cracking of cheap beers was “So how’s the sex life going?” presumably to prove his point to me. Ryan’s reply: “Man, I ain’t been getting any of that. But I have been making out like a motherfucker.” The only other guys I know who view that as a good thing typically have a last name like “Smith” and have multiple family members living in Utah. This guy just told botched hookup after botched hookup story until he finally told us about a Hawaiian Tropic model he had slept with last September. Okay, a little while ago, but still impressive, right? Well, he takes us over to his Facebook page where he has pictures of her and I have to say she must have gotten the sympathy vote in her competitions, because this girl was not much above a 7.
We traveled on to a typical college town establishment that featured 25 cent pitchers for a portion of the night and immediately began to binge drink. As we walked around, Ryan got looks from every girl we went by. Can’t say I wasn’t a little jealous, but I thought maybe I could get some of his leftovers. Well, all I can say is it’s hard to get leftovers from a guy who can’t even get his own. He approached two different groups of girls that were eyeing him like a new fish in D block, and was somehow rebuffed within two minutes both times. He said nothing offensive, nothing pathetic, but somehow these girls, mostly coeds between 19-22, began to seep interest like the Exxon Valdez. After two rejections, Ryan decided to try his luck with the beer box girl.
The beer box girl seemed a bit more receptive and a lot more attractive. After about 15 minutes Ryan comes over and says, “Man, that fucking pisses me off dude. That girl is smoking hot and she’s dating some baseball player at UF now. And you know what? She told me she had a crush on me two years ago when we had Engineering together. Fuck, you know how much I hear that? Why don’t these girls ever make a move?” Oh, Ryan, welcome to my world. But yours is so, so much worse. Because not only are you better looking than me, and therefore probably able to attract better quality, you have less competition living in a college town. And your game is apparently even worse than mine, which I did not think was possible.
Turns out Ryan was a fat kid too, just like me. And he also works out obsessively, just like me. And he also is obviously sexually frustrated, just like me. So it is nice to see that I am not the only guy in the world who blatantly underachieves because he was the guy who got “Wouldn’t touch him with a 10-foot pole” checked off when the girls in 7th grade passed around the “Who’s the hottest?” sheet. And in a sick, sick way, seeing this better-looking guy do just as bad in me in an easier environment gave me sense that I was not alone in my ineptitude, and that maybe I am not as pathetic as I thought. And that no matter how good-looking you are, it never matters if you lack the confidence to go with it.