As I sat in my office today and a little phrase came to my
head that seemed quite appropriate for the moment. It was this, “Even Weeds are
Flowers”.
I thought this was so witty
so I decided to Google it and see if anyone else had thought of it.
There is a similar one by A.A Milne, the
author behind Winnie the Pooh. It goes, “Weeds are flowers too, once you get to
know them.” The stinger is that it wasn’t even Pooh who said this, it was
Eeyore, the sullen and depressed donkey which I think I resemble the least.
I want to make one thing clear, I am not quoting A.A. Milne
and I’m certainly not quoting Eeyore.
What brought me to even think of this phrase? Last night I
was perusing the channel guide and the science channel or another of those
“nerd” stations that I frequent so often had a show on about the mysteries of
sex appeal. Since I’ve been going
through a “dry spell” in the dating market, I decided to see what it was all
about.
Who am I kidding, it’s not a dry spell, it’s a full on
drought, and I haven’t dated successfully in years!
The point of this scientific show was to determine what
caused certain individuals to be more “attractive” than others. My simple mind
says, “thin”. I always think it’s a fat vs. thin thing and this program proved
me relatively wrong. Seems it’s more of a good genes/fertility/survival of the
fittest kind of thing. Most of the experiments were on “twenty something” men
and women and so since I’m a “forty (almost fifty) something” I had to use some
reasoning to put it in perspective for me.
First of all, I’m pretty certain men don’t look at me and
wonder what our children would look like. If they do, that man is a dumb ass
and should not be considered for the dating pool anyways.
I decided to watch the show and take from it what I could.
Bear with me during the next couple of paragraphs while I lay down the basics.
One of the experiments consisted of 10 men and 10 women in
unitard outfits that made them all look pretty much the same. (remember, these
are young people and I would NOT want to see middle-aged men and women in
unitards any more than you would) Then the person in charge of the experiment
put a nylon cap on each person and tucked their hair under, furthering the
inability to find a great difference between the subjects. The interesting part of this experiment was
that each of the nylon caps had a number on the front of it from 1 – 10 and the
wearer was not aware of whether their number was a 1 or a 10 or anything in
between.
Then the subjects were told to pair up by holding out their
hand to another subject of the opposite sex and if the other subject accepted
your hand, you were a match. If they didn’t accept your hand, you had to find
someone else until all the couples were matched. The goal of the experiment is
to end up with the largest combined number. If the woman with the number 5
hooked up with the guy with the number 6, their combined score was 11. (duh)
Well, when they started the experiment, the obvious
happened. Most men flocked to the number 10 woman and stuck their hand out.
Most women flocked to the number 10 man and stuck their hand out. Of course, the number 10’s only accepted the
hand of the highest number he could see. He/she knew, “I have a high number on
my head”.
Then you see a number 3 hold her hand out to a 7 and he
doesn’t accept, you hear her say, “I must have a low number”. A number 3 walks up to her and holds his
hand out, she says out loud, “I can do better than that” and she walks over to
a 5, he won’t accept her hand… finally she walks up to a 2 and holds her hand
out, he accepts. They walk way, both of them visibly disappointed.
When they showed the pairings it was evident that this is
how society works too. The upper range of numbers chose each other, the middle
range together and the lower range together although the lower range didn’t
look quite as happy with the result as the upper range.
I started to wonder, what number am I?
I’d like to think I’m at least a mid range, right? A 6 or a
7 would be acceptable because I know good and well that I’m not an 8, 9 or 10.
I have one pair of slacks that make me think I’m an 8 but that thought is
removed as quickly as the slacks are. I love those slacks!
The fact is, all the 8, 9 and 10’s that actually want to be
paired up, are. If they are not paired up in the real world, they are usually
egotistical shit heads and I wouldn’t want one anyways. Then there are 8, 9 or
10’s that think they are 5’s and they are dead sexy!
I do not believe the 1, 2 or 3 category actually exists in
the outside world. They are either fatties that would require a wrecking ball
and a crane to remove them from their homes or they are mentally or physically
challenged and reside in institutions or jailhouses. May the Universe bless them and keep them.
There have been short periods of time in my life where I
have fallen into the 1-3 category but that certainly does not MAKE me one.
Don’t EVER convince yourself that you are a 1-3 unless you are reading this
from behind bars or from your queen size bed that your massive body makes it
look like a twin size.
I also don’t actually think that 10’s exist because there is
no such thing as perfection and I am grateful for that! Even a 10 can act like
a 3 sometimes.
I have decided that I land somewhere in the 5 range.
“Blissfully Average”
Sometimes I’m a 5, sometimes I’m a 4 and when I put on those
sexy damn slacks, I’m a friggin’ 8 baby!
I hang around with some 9’s and I also hang around with some
3’s that the state has graciously released from their custody. I love them all
and they love me.
I used to think that the biggest responsibility to myself
was to make sure I didn’t reach for the 10’s and suffer bitter disappointment.
A perfect 10 is kind of like owning a VanGogh; it’s nice to look at but I don’t
want it hanging around my house all the time.
The truth is that my biggest responsibility is to accept
myself as I am. If I’m a 5, I’m going to be the best 5 I can be!