Posted by: fireweaver | June 15, 2007

surface impressions

people in d.c. are shallow & image conscious. obviously true in a town most noted for its politicians, surely an egocentric bunch, but a truism that extends on to pretty much the whole place. b’more was so much more the blue-collar, laid-back, down-to-earth realist sort of place. little scruffy around the edges, but hey, that’s why the place has to get by on charm alone.

but d.c, wow, this place is all full of the shallow bitches, and i’m using that term to refer to both sexes. i swear i’ve seen more vanity plates in the cars on my am commute here than i’ve ever seen in my life, including such gems as “1 BAD CPA”.

i’ve just never thought of myself as being one of those people. au contraire, mes amis, i learned the sordid truth about m’self just last night. i keep saying to people that i firmly believe everyone has a cut-off point, that is, the image of a person below which is so unattractive that you have to “get over it” before you can consider a relationship. the need for a paper bag at that point becomes a trump card that knocks out the other fine qualities of the specimen at hand, and becomes an insurmountable hurdle to that relationship. well, kiddos, if i had a camera instead of a left eyeball, you guys would have a full-length pic of my cut-off point.

there are plenty of things that should most likely NOT be the first things flitting through one’s head in the first glimpse of a first date. two of them are “you’ve got to be kidding me” and “oh, i can do better than this.” we’ve got a *big* guy loafing on the bench outside of the restaurant’s patio blissed out to his ipod, wearing (i shit thee not) a black tee tucked in to some black shorts, in different stages in their respective fading lifetimes, particularly ironic given the conversation i’d had with some peeps at work just hours previously about how pretty much anyone beyond college age is not so hot in shorts. at some point in the evening, he makes a crack about pasty legs & his need to tan, and of course i just murmur something polite along the lines of my own considerable paleness…and promptly think, well, no shit, and that’s why i’m wearing jeans. and yes, i feel like an evil c.w. just typing all that bit.

let’s be really damn blunt here. i’m a fat girl. but i know what i’m working with, and i think i have a pretty good grip on how to present what i do have. there’s a very clear and present reason why i’m wearing neither a muumuu nor a shiny spandex tube top & bike shorts. i was in a nicely tailored pair of jeans, some cute high heeled shoes, and a darted/princess-seamed button-down shirt. you know, i looked like i gave a shit about myself. “those jeans are nice, and they look cute on you,” he says, “i just figured you were a laid-back sort of person, so you wouldn’t really care what i was wearing.” i say something noncommittal about being comfortable always being a good thing and wonder what’s up with the lack of attempts to impress.

the convo was good, though. like Larry asked in the post-game recap, what are my top 2 requirements? a big brain and the ability to make me laugh. and he has both in spades. top that off with a deliciously deviant mind, and the experience should have been like blood in the water to a shark. i’m uncomfortably reminded of that guy i was seeing last fall, who was so sweet and somehow totally unattractive.  i have utterly no desire to do anything evil to this guy, but it’s clear that he’d really rather move things right on past that initial getting-to-know-you and into the thick of it all.

i’d love to blame the whole experience on the hotties i dated in college that went and convinced me that their caliber was what i could expect out of life, but well, that’s not totally honest, and hey, they were all crazy anyway.  no, maybe if i get really coldly cruel with myself, i can say something like ‘i don’t want to look in the mirror like that.’  i don’t like to imagine the way he looks naked, because it’s the exact flaws i see in myself when i’m naked.

so, that brain & amusement power definitely warrants another go, and there’s tentative plans to get together again this weekend.  who knows, maybe it’s just an off 1st impression.  or maybe i really am that shallow.



  1. shallowness aside… no matter how smart/funny the guy is.. if he doesn’t ring your bell that’s going to be a problem. There’s something to be said for the pounce-ability factor.

    And you’re not shallow, you’re just tellin’ it like it is. (which is what I love about you) Seriously, you need to come down here and hang on the beach with me.

  2. Okay,
    I’ve turned shallow, or more so – I have to say, my Citizen Jeans, and new coach purse with my soon to be new diamond earings and emerald pendant (formerly my engagement ring) help me look very nice. I just have to say as Christy said “Divorce Looks Good on You!”
    Being shallow is also a little practical – look at me, I’m a 31 year old divorcee with a kid – I have to look good, I need everything I can to help me out!
    Also, people who don’t care about personel apperance, usally means that they lake a certain amount of personal pride (like cody, he could care less how he looked, how his car looked or how his house looked – it never mattered to him) so if personal pride is something you want the person to have, that guy is not for you.


  3. I gotta go with your other girls here, Michelle. No bell-ringing means there is no bell ringing. And although moments pass when I would desparately clutch a man to me, at the same time I think ultimately if I can get past those moments I would be happier not settling. But hey, why listen to me. . . my newest theory on dating is “If I wear a wedding ring maybe the unmarried ones will start paying attention.”

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