There’re few things more ridiculous than the thought of the one certain person waiting out there just for you, the one human that, if you could find her/him, then your life would be complete. There may be the hypothetical “right” person, but that’s different from the fanciful “one”.
In this world there’s upwards of 7 billion people. Over half of them are female and almost all of them are not in the country in which you grow up. It’s like saying you’ve found the most perfect yellow piece of sand and declaring the futility of looking any further. Don’t worry about all the trillions of other pieces of sand on all the billions of beaches around the world, this piece is the perfect one and you should stop here.
But the purpose of searching for something is to find it. I don’t think I would have been so uptight about finding a “right” girl if I knew there was no chance. People don’t just go looking for something without some indication of its existence. So in this massive world full of great people, there must be someone out there I can discover who’ll blow me away. In fact, there are so many people milling around doing their daily thing that my perfect vision of a female must be sitting out there right now. With all the possibilities, it would be foolish to say she isn’t there. I wonder what she looks like?
I don’t really care what she looks like, but part of me does. I know what I find attractive in a female and I probably won’t look twice at someone I don’t find attractive, a reaction common to all humans. We are attracted to certain things about other people, and with such variety and differentiation it’s impossible to say what is ‘universally’ attractive. But a weird thing happens when I sometimes see beautiful women. I see their beauty or their ‘hotness’ (not the same thing, don’t get them mixed up) and I immediately think of how great we’d be together. I wouldn’t mind some carnal knowledge too, the two thoughts running parallel in my brain as the beauty strolls past. Despite what silly books tell you, men don’t think about sex around seven times a minute. That’s just ludicrous. But it does flash on the headlines whenever an attractive person is nearby, there’s no denying that.
It’s actually really difficult to explain what it’s like being a man in the presence of an attractive female. But it’s pretty much the same as the rest of the day, just on steroids. Being a man and having a sex-drive is like I’m hungry all the time. Just think about needing food at certain times of the day because your body clock is telling you dinner time’s close, except the hunger is for sex, not food. You can get a little satiation from time to time, but the desire is still there. It’s always present and it never leaves you.
When the old sex-drive isn’t flashing through the headlines in big obnoxious neon signs, bashing you over the head to pay attention to it like a spoiled school brat who needs more manners taught than chocolate ice-cream stuffed down its chubby face, it can be found after page three near the comments section. It might not be leaping out at you, but it doesn’t take much to hit the override button. It’s not weird that the sex-drive ebbs and flows. What’s weird is many times when I see an attractive female my thought process goes something like this:
“Wow, this chick is amazing! Look at her, she’s fantastic!”
“I’d sure like to bang her. Mmmm, any which way. She’d be great to bring home to my grandma. Maybe we could see the world together! But I bet she has a boyfriend, they always do. How can a girl looking like that be single? It just doesn’t happen, of course she’s unavailable. And I’ve got no chance.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway. I bet she’s vapid as a warm breeze flowing over dusty roads and about as interesting as watching cardboard exist.”
Why do I do that? This stuff happens in a spit second up in the cobwebs of my thinking machine. I see a pretty girl and I should be thinking objectively how beautiful she is, instead I immediately evaluate how impossible she is to attract and dive headfirst into an insult about her intelligence without knowing a shred of anything about her. I’m not going to blame this on the media. I don’t care how many times movies have portrayed pretty girls as being thick and vapid, it’s totally my fault for assuming this immediately about someone I don’t know. Besides, I wasn’t making a judgement on the level of her intelligence; I was simply defending my own honour after a perceived insult to me.
But there was no insult. The girls always walk past, sometimes as if I don’t exist, but that’s not their fault. How many times did I walk past a girl I didn’t find attractive? How did I think they feel when I couldn’t even offer a quick peek or even smile? I insult the pretty girl’s intelligence simply because she’s beautiful. I see a girl in the distance and if she’s pretty a little gremlin in my brain assumes she’s stupid.
I know it’s a defence mechanism because I’ve heard it all around me from pretty much every guy. They see a happy, beautiful girl dancing around or frolicking in the flowers (whatever it is pretty girls do…) and we all immediately have that one nasty word we vomit out. We don’t know anything about the pretty dancing girl, or the girl in the low-cut top. We know nothing of who she is deep inside. We’re completely ignorant of her history and educational background, but because she’s not dancing for us we mutter “slut” and dismiss her.
This is so common among guys as a turn-of-phrase it’s actually become acceptable. A guy can do almost whatever he wants with women. He can throw his money around, he can sleep with as many girls as he likes, he can wear pretty much what he wants and no one gives a damn. We all think he’s the ‘alpha’ male, give him a hearty slap on the back, and go on our way. Yet if a girl so much as simply looks beautiful we call her a slut if she’s not falling all over us. If she is falling all over us, we just like to call that a ‘score’. As if it’s all a game, reinforcing the cliché that girls are actually objects.
What’s crazy is we think it’s actually the girl’s fault. I call her a slut or I sit there and assume she’s vapid and uninteresting, and somehow the girl is in the wrong. As if she needs to change, not me. In my opinion, this is the origin of the patriarchal, misogynistic ideal of covering women in hideously unflattering clothes.
Most men will not be attractive in any way, shape, or form during their lives. They will not have the good looks, the power, the prestige, or the money that work as force multipliers (to borrow a military term) making them more attractive to females. Females probably should be attracted to these things as they show how suitable the male is for a life partner. Only a relative handful of men will reach these goals while the rest of us wallow in the deep pools of normalcy. Beautiful females in particular and most females in general, are attracted to men with such traits. And in a normal society, these beautiful women usually ‘end up’ with the attractive man. The rest of the people are left to mix and mingle among themselves for relationship success. Left to the wild, removing any ideology, this is the ‘normal’ way of things for humans.
In a monogamous society there is greater room to break this trend and for a ‘normal’ male to successfully attract a beautiful woman. But in a polygamous society (as most societies were for thousands of years), the powerful male usually attracts beautiful women disproportionately, while leaving the many other men to divide the far fewer not-so-fit females for themselves. The ‘alpha’ guy is powerful, with all his beautiful women. The women all want to stay with him because he represents security and safety for each of them and their children. But the other less-powerful men have little, if any chance, of actually finding a girl at all. Of course, this just means there’s usually far more men than women to go round in these societies, and a surplus of men is never a good thing. They start to conspire. They start to scheme. And sooner or later they’ll invent rules oppressing the fairer sex because when it becomes too difficult to satisfy the raging male sex-drive anymore.
Instead, the sexual frustration and the inability to find a girl materialises as anger to be taken out on females in the society. They are forced to cover up, lest the pathetic man become aroused. They are told to stay at home, in the kitchen, lest the man find himself tempted by the presence of a female.
The feelings of arousal and temptation when a sexually frustrated man spots an attractive female are not his fault but hers, he rationalises. She shouldn’t be wearing those clothes. She shouldn’t have said those things. She shouldn’t have looked at me so seductively. I know this happens a lot overseas to a great extent, it’s even encourages in some places. Treating women as second-class citizens just waiting for abuse is a common idea. Men really don’t know how lucky we are when travelling abroad. But this also happens in more developed countries too, just more privately. I don’t consider myself sexually frustrated, but I know I sometimes get similar reactions when I see beautiful women.