Lance shot me this link from The Huffington Post, which attempts to explain why women are so much more likely than men to date people who are significantly less good-looking than they are (and sometimes, apparently, not good looking by any standard):
(I think he’s got a little stiffy, and why not?)
While I think the author’s point that women are prioritize guys who are “funny, comforting, kind, and generous – and they’ll often pick one or all of those traits over his looks,” I think the author’s also overlooking the factor of social status as a main reason why the women pick the fellows they do. I mean, take Salman Rushdie and Padma Lakshmi. How hot is it not only to date a famous author, but one with a fatwa calling for his death?
(There’s an odd pairing…or is it?)
The one thing in this article that did resonate with me is the idea that many people (myself included) are not sexually attracted to stunningly beautiful people. Like the author, I appreciate their beauty and may fawn over them a little when we’re talking the unattainable movie-star stunners, but I wouldn’t approach someone that good looking in real life. Additionally, if one approached me I’d probably blow them out.
Author Verena von Pfetten hypothesizes that it’s because we suspect such good-looking people are shallow, vain, and/or possess other unattractive character traits after a lifetime of being worshiped. Not only do I think that’s kind of mean (it seems like there must be some good-looking people who are also nice), I think that the actual reason is that we’re secretly too insecure to believe someone like that would ever want to be with us–especially if we’re “normal looking,” In fact, I bet that even people like Padma have that kind of insecurity, and that’s why they go for someone who is maybe stunning in another area (like writing), but not in the same way they’re stunning (looks).
It’s like the episode of Sex and the City where the gorgeous cop asks Miranda out. She calls Carrie in a panic and says that he’s too good-looking for her, and despite Carrie’s reassurances that the universe is “throwing her a bone…and maybe a boner,” she becomes so insecure about other women checking dude out while they’re on their date that she drinks herself into a stupor and fucks it all up. I’ve made out with a couple people of that caliber at parties in college, but have never gone on a date with one. And I don’t know if I would.