Tall, dark and handsome? No thanks...

I would like you all to note that I actually wrote this post about a month ago. There are some corrections to be made, mainly the facts that at the time I wrote this, I really wasn’t ready to be in a relationship and the guy actually gave me an underlying creeps. Which is probably why I wasn’t attracted to him. Upon our second encounter, my opinion was only solidified. The guy really isn’t all THAT good –looking, combined with the creeps and a general feeling on wariness are all perfect reasons why I wasn’t attracted to him. But I thought the whole point about the scenario was still valid so I decided to still post it below…

What equals attraction? I know this topic has been all over the blog world, with people such as Rachel and Indy putting their two cents in. I have given my two cents already. I stick by it:

First of all, it comes down to chemistry, a spark between people – usually brought on by several characteristics: similar sense of humour (very important), kindness, loyalty, intelligence, a passion for life, ambition and thoughtfulness. This is my list mind you and everyone has a different one. And I still stick by my vote that MONEY is not important to me in the least. Yes, says Indy, this is probably because I have money. But so what? It just doesn’t matter to me – ambition does, but that is not ruled by the all-mighty dollar. I want a man to have goals for himself and his life, to want to strive to get there – whether these goals mean selling his paintings on the street or what have you.

Looks are important – this is always stressed by everyone. But what about them? ATTRACTION is important, not looks. I can be attracted to the strangest people (Conan O’Brian, or Jack Black anyone?) that are not conventionally good-looking just because something else they possess pulls me towards them (mainly humour, fun, good-spirit etc).

So, thankfully, the homeliest guy can be found attractive to me if there are other factors that surpass that and add up to the thing called “chemistry.”

But can the most handsome guy be found bland if the chemistry lacks?

Or maybe, just being TOO attractive can render someone unattractive.

I met a friend of a friend for drinks the other day – while I knew what he looked like and had been talking to him for a while, I was SHOCKED to meet him face to face.

He was tall – 6’4”, in a snazzy pinstripe suit and tie, shiny aviator glasses, nicely browned from recent days in the Indonesian sun. Oh and he looked like a BETTER looking version of James Franco. A 6’4” James Franco look alike.

My first thought, “I think I’ve seen this guy on the cover of GQ” followed by “he is WAY too good-looking to be seen with me.”

Maybe I am just easily impressed – a suit and tie does do it for me everytime (love that old-fashioned glamour), I suppose because I very rarely see guys my age wearing one (GQ was 30 and had to wear one for work). I also notice that I rarely see any guy that I would consider “hot” – maybe because attraction for me always happens after I get to know them. So when I see someone who would – by Hollywood standards – be considered “gorgeous” - it’s a bit of a novelty.

As we walked down the street to the Freehouse bar overlooking English Bay, I couldn’t help but feel like I was with a celebrity. This guy had every woman on the street turning heads. Suddenly I felt like laughing my ass off – I felt like the dumpy female with the hot guy and imagined all the women going “how did someone like her get someone like him?”

It was a turn-off, actually. I want to make clear to you all that this was NOT a date of any sort, this ridiculously good-looking dude was in fact a friend. And that could be why- even though I and everyone else on the street could plainly see he was extremely attractive – I was just not “attracted” to him. I didn’t want to see him as anything more.

As we sat down and talked for hours, I did note that there were things that would come into my whole list of things that I find attractive – we did have a similar sense of humour, especially when it came to quoting The Simpsons and Caddyshack. We both loved Classic Rock and were going to the Police concert at the end of the month. We both paid our dues at Vancover Film School.

But alas, there just wasn’t a spark. Which was fine with me because I honestly did not want there to be one. I just want to make friends, meet new people and have some fun.

It just struck me as kind of odd though, that the main excuse I was using for why I didn’t “like” this guy was because he was too good-looking. But it’s true. Because being ”really, really ridiculously good looking” means a lot of bad things in my books (Blue Steel is the least of these).

Maybe I am unfairly putting GQ guy into a box but in my opinion and experience, really good-looking guys are unfaithful. They cheat. They can’t be monogamous. They have no sense of loyalty. They are conceited. Vain. Shallow. Arrogant. Uncaring. Unkind. Flaky. Bad in bed (according to Samantha from SATC because “they never had to be good”). Have roving eyes. Expect perfection from those with them. They are fake. They have no faith. You can never trust them. They are good liars. They induce insecurity.

GQ was also actually an actor, looking to get into modeling. An actor? No thanks. Again, I am stereotyping but usually, actors aren’t the smartest cookies. Their ambition and passion (when present) I admire but….

And then I think, who is the shallow one here? Here is a guy that most girls would be interested in for shallow reasons, and then I find I am not because he’s not good enough for me…in other ways. Can shallowness just be about appearances or does it extend to someone not being smart enough, funny enough, kind enough – or are all these factors just a matter of what floats your boat?

Can you ever be too good-looking (males and females)? Is it too much of a good thing? Do really attractive people sometimes face the same problems as really unattractive people? Can something that is so highly praised in this shallow society we live in, actually work against you? Or is it just me – I need more than just a pretty face…and I don’t care if that makes me shallow or not.

Where am I? What's going on?

An hour or so ago, I was wandering around downtown Vancouver in a daze. I slowly schleped down West Georgia street, not knowing really where I was or what I was doing. I ended up at a Starbucks and proceeded to have great difficulty ordering an iced coffee...words were coming out of my mouth but they weren't making much sense. The Barista noticed my camo ballcap with the words Cardio Core Bootcamp on it and forgave me for being a fuckwit.

This is what I will have to look forward to for the next month. This is me after Bootcamp.

At any rate, I did survive it, which is a lot more than I had hoped for.

The "camp" was held indoors at Fitness World (in summer, it's held in Stanley Park), in one of the aerobics rooms. There was about 30 or so people there, mainly female with a few men scattered about.

I was relieved to see most of the women were slightly overweight just like me, so I didn't feel too self-conscious.

*start rant* That was until I noticed a few thin women...one, especially, was perky, fit, tanned and blonde.

"What the hell are you doing here you skinny Lululemon beyatch?!" I yelled at her. "Trying to upstage us all, or what?"

OK, so I yelled it at her in my head, but the point is: if you are already fit and toned, why are you here? Just go to the gym like everyone else does, don't join a bootcamp for fatties and then proceed to rock the push-up test harder than everyone else...and longer than the instructor did it for. In fact, it prompted our instructor to make a remark about the program not being a competition.

I can tell Miss Fit is going to be on my nerves for the next few weeks.

*end rant*

That was just one rant and I have many more so I think I'll just call the whole rest of this post one long rant. Keep in mind my writing skills at this moment are quite nonexistant, I think I recieved a lobotomy while I was there.

Anyhoo, the hour consisted of non-stop excercise led by our leader. She wasn't the one to yell in your face, instead she was full of boundless optimism and energy...which somehow made me prefer the "spit in face" method. At any rate, she kept us going. And going. And going. Non-stop. For one full, nauseous hour.

After the ten minute "warm-up," which consisted of 30 people running with their knees high in a circle, I was ready to throw in the towel. At least, I would have if the program was up to me. But it wasn't and we were pushed to go on and on. This was not even our cardio day so it was all about the weight training. I used to like weight training. I always thought it was the "easy" part.

Nuh-uh.

The weight training was more like circuit training, with different groups of us rotating between the ball, the steps and the bands, working on our muscle groups with cardio in between. This ensured we wouldn't get bored.

I was too busy dying to care if I was bored or not.

Literally, I felt like I was going to puke during my push-up test.

Also felt like puking when I started using the stretchy bands to work my arms and the band slipped off my foot.

Hit me right in the face.

Ever had someone snap an elastic band on your arm? Well, enlarge that band by 100 and apply it to your face.

And then I really felt like puking when they took me aside for measurements.

Oh dear.

My weight is one thing, but the width of my thigh? The horror. I'm even wearing the wrong bra size - I'm MUCH larger than I thought...which reminds me, a sports bra would probably be in good order too. I don't want to have to worry about elastic bands AND boobs snapping in my face.

A good note though, was that they didn't weigh us. It's obviously more about losing inches than pounds, which is great because that's what really counts. And speaking of my weight and inches: if it's a notable difference (and I don't know how it won't be if I'm going to be burning my lungs and buns off 3 times a week) I'll be sure to let you know at the end. Finger's crossed!

So, to sum up my first day at Bootcamp: I survived. It was tough. It was scary (especially when you have to run around with all these mirrors around you). It was challenging (tripped over my own feet while trying to keep up with a certain excercise...it's times like this that being naturally clumsy is NOT endearing). It was...not fun. But I don't regret starting it and I'm excited to see how far I will come. After all, the first class is down. It can only get easier from here on in.

Though ask me how I am doing tomorrow and it might be a different story - one filled with many explicit words.

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In other news, I am going to the Police in May. Woot! And I have an extra, single ticket if anyone should be so interested to be doing a doo doo doo and a da da da.