Better to not see and guess…(Battered dog syndrome)

Sometimes in my daily life I experience a specifically unsavory and belittling situation. It serves to beat me down, repeatedly. I’ve learned to not expose myself to it anymore. See, I find myself positioned such that I am either standing or sitting next to a very striking, handsome guy. Stop. Men can recognize such a thing from within the confines of heterosexuality. Women judge other women’s looks all the time and no one thinks twice about it. Men, whether they admit it or not, have the ability to recognize when a man is handsome. It’s not rocket science.

So this shit happens to me. I don’t know if it’s only me. Well, not only me, but it happens to very few others. I’m disturbed by the most trivial cognitive disturbances.

So I’m sitting by this friggin’ male model type and our situation is such that you only have 2 choices.
Him.
Me.
And the disconcerting realization that as women pass, on their way in, or out, their eyes may swim across the stud and me in close sequence but invariably, they return to rest on the stud and never so much as give me a second glance. I lost that battle!

I lose these battles all the time. And the guys are decidedly not male models. It’s fractured my psyche. Seat me next to a handsome guy and doom awaits bitterly to pummel my pride into fragmented particles of my vaporized soul. If I am brave enough to appraise the glances of passing women, my misery trails languidly on the dashed female glances which invariably come to rest on the superior specimen I am unfortunate enough to share a seat with. If I sit in a public place, I will deliberately choose to sit away from handsome men if I can because I don’t particularly enjoy losing such ferocious battles of physical attractiveness in which strange women play the impartial and ruthless judges.

See this is all about perspective and context. The only way to get women to notice you is to outrank the other male subjects in your immediate environment. The better looking the man, the easier this translates in most environments across the spectrum. For some less genetically blessed men, this might entail hanging out at the back of a special ed class. Women size up a room, an area, efficiently and quickly. They visually rank the men in order of who they choose to focus their sights on. In a seating situation where I am sharing the space with another guy who is light years ahead of me on the attractiveness scale, I am toast.

And if we’re standing, forget it. Most men are taller than me. I’m in the lower reaches of the male height curve, so when standing next to me, a man doesn’t even have to be better looking. He can just be taller and this immediately monopolizes the female’s tendency to rank and tier men by their physical traits. Even if I am slightly better looking than the guy who is taller, he most likely wins that battle. That’s one reason night clubs are tough for short guys. Height is a value unto itself that even facial attractiveness isn’t able to overcome. In a standing situation, I’ll rarely draw a lingering look as opposed to the taller man standing next to me. And if he’s good-looking and tall, it’s time for me to go home.

It’s damaging and this is a cruel world.
I just avert eyes when I can help it. I’m like a battered dog. Better to not see and guess, than to see and know.