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Scientific study: do you have what men want?
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Photo by Graeme Weatherston
Let’s get science-y. I read this study today about how women can be attracted to a number of different things, physically. (I am assuming this study was done in the US or some western European country). Men, on the other hand, are attracted to mainly the same things and no, the answer is not “vagina” as my boyfriend so helpfully put it when I asked him if he knew what physical characteristics all men liked.
The overall message was that men like women who are thin and seductive. On a related note, there should literally be a book of obvious studies done. Do you know how many come out each year? You’ll see headlines like “Swallowing more than one magnet extremely dangerous” and “It’s confusing to drive in Germany.” Yes, we know this.
My problem with this current study is threefold. I am pretty sure that’s a word.
1. We don’t have enough information. Were they comparing super attractive women to average women or just women who had clear skin and good teeth to those who didn’t? Thin or seductive covers a wide range of people.
2. This study is geared to make women feel bad. Why didn’t they title it "Men getting more picky, entire gender in danger of dying out?” It’s like that study that came out a while ago that said overweight women have lower quality relationships than their normal weight peers or overweight partners. What? What are we counting as overweight? Did we also include underweight? And how do you know that the overweight men’s relationships aren’t just as bad, but they are oblivious? These are crap studies, geared to encourage me to eat more ice cream and expect a bad relationship.
3. It doesn’t include awesomeness quotient. Let's expand on awesomeness quotient.
Oh yeah, that’s a thing. A BIG thing. You see, men, when we first meet you, something very different is going on in our head than in yours. You see us and gauge our attractiveness (plus possible sluttiness in some cases. One can substitute “sluttiness” for “knowledge of esoteric books or music” if you wear horn-rimmed glasses or play in a band). But my point is you look at what you see and either like or don’t.
We women are different. We look at you men, upon first meeting, and see perhaps a unibrow, or some shoes that are suspect, and we think about whether those things can be fixed or accepted, because the really important part is how awesome you are. I realize I am giong to get in trouble for saying the above statement, and I stand by it. Guys like attractiveness.
For those of you who don’t believe me, let me explain how strong the awesomeness quotient can be. When I was 16 or so, I went to a leadership conference. I don’t know why, I went to a bunch of those. I think I and one other girl in my school were the only person who would actually do it. Maybe this conference had something to do with politics or friends…it definitely wasn’t the drugs one. Anyway, the conference was at a college and there were a few hundred of us. We were living in the college dorms for a couple of weeks, and getting to know each other and a high school leadership conference is surprisingly like high school.
This guy Britain (we called him Britany. We were pretty cool. And yes, with one T.) liked me. I had no idea at first, and here’s why: I am not cool. When I was in high school I was friends with some cool people, but I myself am not actually cool. My chest was too big and my teeth were crooked and I usually couldn’t keep my mouth shut and no one knew exactly when I was being sarcastic. I understood I wasn’t cool and never really wanted to be. I didn’t have the will power my friends did to starve themselves, and I couldn’t bring myself to make out with anyone my age. Besides, if you’re not in the “in” crowd, it’s kind of pitiful to try. I am writing that last sentence for my classmate Sean Jolley by the way, who used to walk around with a rat tail and sing “Let’s talk about sex, ba-bee” over and over. And this was in 2000, so…there’s really no excuse.
Anyway. So I knew I wasn’t cool. And the first night I lost my name tag. Guess what you have to do if you lose your name tag on the first night and someone else finds it? You have to get up on stage and spell your name with your butt, in cursive. My full name had 22 letters, which doesn’t sound like a ton, but is when it’s your first night in front of 200 of your peers and you’re wiggling your butt and trying to remember what a cursive “z” looks like.
The first few days were kind of like that. I met cool people, had a good time, we’d eat lunch and dinner together, and then, low and behold, Britany liked me. He was tall, good looking, funny, and reached over to grab my hand and said he liked me. So of course, I acted like an idiot.
I immediately began running into things, more so than usual. I didn’t have any good ideas in our group meetings, which is odd, because I was the girl who figured out what to do immediately when they told us to line up in order of importance without talking. I also talked our team into throwing up a cheerleading stunt to get over this huge wall (that one was not brilliant, but born out of fear. I was not climbing a giant wall).
But yes. I got mute, around Britany and if I thought he might be listening, with his perfect, tanned, golden ears. By the last dance of the conference he had taken to completely ignoring me and dancing with this cute, popular, thin girl. And you know? I deserved that.
That’s what these studies don’t take into account, our awesomeness. You can’t tell that from looking at a picture…well, maybe you could if the person in the picture was spelling their name with their butt.
But that’s what we’re missing, with these scientific studies and women magazines telling us we need to look a certain way and guys answering “vagina” when we ask what physical feature they like—we’re missing our claim to awesomeness.
My awesomeness. That is what Britany liked about me that left as soon as I got self-conscious. My awesomeness is what makes me able to go up to my friends doing my giant impression (it involves me saying “RAWRRR and holding up my hands like claws) and your awesomeness and mine will never be the same. But they will both be awesome.
My message tonight is twofold (I am using a lot of "folds" this evening. That’s what she said. I don’t know what that means.):
Ladies, screw the studies, embrace your awesomeness.
Men, look for awesomeness. Besides, it’s a widely known fact that heavier girls give better head.
(Kidding. I’m kidding, people who for some strange reason take me seriously).
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