It isn’t easy being gorgeous. Eyed up constantly, who can you trust and how can you ever satisfy their expectations? Adrian Gillan meets some pretty sad stunners.
If we could be gorgeous - but just for one day! Sure, it’s great enhancing one’s own moderately fine features for a Saturday night out, but do we fully appreciate how utterly disabling it is to be naturally dazzling?
“I know not everyone would find me that attractive because ‘beauty’s in the eye’,” philosophises 24-year old beau barman Paul almost modestly, “but, sure, lots of guys do. I can take drunk punters chatting me up for a minute or two but I’ve lived with this face all my life, so I’ve kind of forgotten what the attraction is myself, as if I ever knew. It’s embarrassing and boring, not flattering.”
Ah, these poor lovely souls - a tough life, rolling out of bed and looking lush! Come on darling: quite apart from the ego boost, think of all the time and money you don’t have to spend dolling yourself up like the rest of us. And don’t statistics show that good face means good job, not to mention a wider choice of prospective partners, all throwing themselves at you? So what’s your problem, mate?
“I’ve been dated by so many guys, and interviewed by so many bosses, who were only after one thing,” explains Paul. “But I’m not just a shag or eye candy, no more than the next guy. Everyone wants to be appreciated for who they really are and what they can do. I’ve been dumped and sacked too many times by people who weren’t interested in me. You end up feeling cheap and unable to trust people.”
“It can be really frightening sometimes,” insists 19-year old clubbing cutsie David. “I’m not being vain or anything, but on the tubes, you sometimes feel like half the carriage is just staring at you. Loads of guys at clubs follow me into toilets. I’ve even been followed back home on a night bus. It’s not nice.”
He continues coyly: “The other thing is jealous young queens. They just can’t stand someone else getting attention so they fanny around, ignoring you and saying rude things in ear shot – when you’re just standing there minding your own business!”
“I never play any of that ‘face card’ crap,” gushes lush David. “Good looking guys who do that deserve all they get. Live by your face, die by your face. OK, I sometimes tease a guy and lead him on, especially some sad seedy tosser, but I can tell straight off if someone’s only into my face. And I don’t hang around.”
“I don’t think my ex’s are what you’d call ‘gorgeous’,” claims 22-year old looker Tom. “Now I don’t think I’m anything special” – he is – “but I suppose my partners tend to have more ‘interesting’ faces. And they tend to be a bit older, stockier and hairier – that’s beauty for me. Unfortunately not everyone like that is into me.”
He reflects: “Whenever I do meet my own dream guy, he just goes and gets annoyed by all the attention I tend to receive when we’re out together. It can end in tears without me even opening my mouth.”
“I’ve also found,” ‘fesses Tom, “some guys are disappointed when I’m not perhaps all they dreamed of in bed. They like my face, then build up their own little fantasy of me under the sheets, below the waist. But I’m just me.”
So maybe it’s a myth young hung demi-God studs all merrily shag each other in some private space whilst we all hang around and watch. But, for goodness sake, isn’t it generally a perk to be the belle of the ball? Come on!
Tom bemoans: “I’ve had guys who call me their ‘friend’, not even boyfriend, but still parade me around like some trophy. No thanks. I get insecure straight girls who cling onto me as if I’m some safe gay pin up, and older guys asking if I’ll model for them or let them take me to an expensive restaurant. Fine, but my face is the first and - in the end – the only thing they see. Sorry chaps!”
Poor Paul, David and Tom! Anyone would think they’d all prefer to be transformed into horrid little beastie boys, though surely few people will feel that sorry for these handsome young drools. However, the lesson seems to be that “beauty” never did mean “happy”; and that this freak endowment of nature
Adrian Gillan |