Beauty and the Beast
I’m not referring to myself as either; as I have no discernible gorgeous qualities (winning personality does not count) nor am I anywhere near beastly, though some might disagree. But I digress…
My friends, whom I love dearly, have all been blessed with ‘hotness’. I kid you not, these girls (and boys) are all gorgeous. And then there is me. I’m not hoping for a pity party, nor do I want one and really, my friends being better looking than I, is rarely a thought that crosses my mind.
On Friday night, we all ventured out for the evening to a bar in Farragut, where we ended up seeing one of my friend’s cousins. He was out with his frat brothers whom we also met and besides them, there were several other groups of males at the bar. At one point, I was standing there with my friends and one of the frat brothers turned around and bought them all (there were five of us standing there talking) a beer, while neglecting poor little me. I’m wondering if a) I give off an ‘I really can’t stand alcohol, so get that vile stuff away from me’ sort of vibe, b) I am such a wholly unattractive person that the thought of removing his head from his ass and being polite and acting like I am with the other five people that he has met and been talking to, as opposed to ignoring me, because I lack hotness. Of course, I went for the latter. I am not hot and therefore I do not deserve a beer. After which I promptly rolled my eyes at the offender (who let’s be honest wasn’t attractive in the least) and went to the bar, while giving him the best looks of disgust that I could muster. Even the subsequent free kamikaze shot couldn’t make me feel better, I was ruined for the evening thinking that I would never be comparable to my friends. Meanwhile, they continuously get hit on and I dance to “No Diggity” (I know…holy motherfucker) and nurse my wounded ego with $1.50 miller lights.
Now, we won’t get into how the previous pitcher of margaritas, may have clouded my judgment on the frat boy beer incident. Nor how ridiculous this is all sounding in hindsight and that I can’t believe I’m actually writing this for the ‘world’ to see. But alas I am. I spend a good portion of my time around hot people who are constantly fawned over. And while I do get things and know many people in order to get these things (and by ‘things’ I mean free alcohol and free/automatic entry into roped off bars and clubs) I still can’t help but feel inadequate when around the hotter folks. I write this like I’m grotesque and one can’t bear to look at me, which is not true-even if I do say so myself. It’s just that as a female, in this great nation’s capital of ours, I don’t want to continuously be known as ‘the friend’. I can count more than one occasion where a male friend of mine says ‘Heather, when can I meet your hot friends’. And while the male friend usually is just a friend, I still feel a little hurt. Of course these wonderful friends of mine, see nothing wrong with me and think I’m hot and blah blah blah (ok, not hot, but moderately pretty). But despite the sheer ridiculous that you and they may feel about what I am saying, I am allowed to do so. I’m allowed to be hurt when those of the opposite sex obsess about how hot my friends are and I’m allowed to bitch about it, to myself or to the internet or to my friends, because really I just want a little love.
So I guess you can call me a liar, this is a pity party and all are welcome.