Pretty Pictures

My best friend sent me an email yesterday that provided a much needed ray of sunshine on an otherwise (metaphorically) rainy day.  It was a list compiled by some magazine or another entitled: 'Hollywood's hottest 100 men,' and each name on the list was accompanied by an extremely savoury photograph.  Like any red-blooded woman, I scrolled (slowly) down the list and poured over every inch of each entrant's visage, finding myself more and more 'exhilarated' as the cursor on my laptop drew toward the bottom of the page, and it led me to wonder: does that make me a perv?

Consider this: were I a thirty-nine year-old man, ogling a list of Hollywood's hottest 100 women, and someone were to walk in on me just as drool was beginning to course its way down my chin, I'd wager that terms such as 'Pig' and 'Dirty old man' would be bandied about, depending on the sex and moral bent of the witness.  Yes, I agree that it sounds like I'm betraying the sisterhood by saying that we sometimes have double standards when it comes to issues of morality and taste.  I agree also that not all women are like this, and I certainly don't mean to paint every member of my awesome gender with the same brush, but I think most women will, if they're honest, admit to accusing a guy of being disgusting or creepy at one time or another, for doing nothing more than appreciating physical beauty. 

I know I have.

Yet, to my knowledge, no such derogatory terms exist for women indulging in the same harmless pass time. 

There are, however, unfortunate and equally degrading terms that people use to denigrate women who, for one reason or another, enjoy carnal festivities with successive partners.  Although the words 'Whore', 'Slut,' and 'Mole,' have never escaped my lips, they were used to describe me at one point in my life and, you know what?  It hurt, and needlessly so, because my accusers were wrong.  Just as I believe anyone who calls a man a pig for looking at pictures of gorgeous, half-naked actresses is wrong.  Men and women are very different, it's true, but what separates human beings from most other animals is that both genders in our species were born with desires, and although those wacky theologians might argue that those desires were put there for the purpose of procreation, the fact is that more often than not, we act on them because we want to, not because we have to. 

To put it more succinctly; lookin' at pictures of them there pretty people in their skivvies is fun.

I think that the desire to look upon beautiful - dare I say heavenly? - creatures is perfectly normal, no matter what your gender.  Doubling your standards halves your humanity. 

   

  

Confusion.

As I sit here, pondering the failures and successes of my life thus far, as I tend to do when I'm terribly bored and similarly un-motivated to do anything about it, it has occurred to me that I have been complicating things unnecessarily, particularly when it comes to my love life (or more specifically, the lack of one).  While it is certainly true that I suffer from anxiety, mild depression and low self-esteem, and that they have impeded what progress I might have made socially if I were of a 'normal' disposition, (if there is such a thing as 'normal' nowadays), shrink wrapping the problem has only made it seem worse than it really is.  There is one obvious, divinely simple explanation for my perpetually static relationship status.

Confusion. 

I'd love a boyfriend.  Having someone around who shares my refreshingly loud and inappropriate sense of humour, who isn't afraid to disagree with me, and who can keep up the same mental and physical pace as I do would be delightful. 

But then...

I don't want a boyfriend.  Having someone around who doesn't understand that I sometimes feel bombarded and need to be by myself, who isn't willing to concede defeat when I think they're wrong, (read: is just as stubborn as I am), and whose opinions and desires don't always coincide with mine would be irritating.

To summarise, I need someone who is loud and funny, but quiet and contemplative; sparky and confident, but contrite and humble; sharp and virile, but on my terms.  Confusing, isn't it?  The funny thing is, if I ever met a guy with the same set of requirements in a girlfriend, I'd think he was a spoilt, arrogant prick. 

But then...

...most of my boyfriends have been spoilt, arrogant pricks. 

If someone could please explain the Darwinian cock-up that is my mind, before my head explodes, I'd sure appreciate it.