An Open Letter To Hot Guys
Dear Hot Guys,
Hey. Heyyyyy. It’s nice to see you, and I mean that quite literally. You are very appealing to the eye. I guess I want to start off by saying, thanks for that! Keep up the great work.
But enough with the pleasantries. Hot guys, we’ve got a problem. See, some of you are great, which is what prompted me to write this letter. I’d like to voice my concern for you — the intelligent, the passionate, the interesting; those of you who handle uncomfortable situations like an upstanding person. (Kudos for that, don’t think it goes unnoticed by the women and men who find themselves in bed with you. We like it, we love it, we want some more of it.) You don’t use your exceptional looks as a crutch, and that’s the hottest thing ever!
Which is why it should alarm you, hot guys, that there are some fakin’ ass imposters out there sullying your good name. To the naked eye, it’s impossible to tell you apart — trust me (us?), we’ve tried. When they approach us at a bar, we want to believe it’s you — someone who is compassionate and honest and worth getting to know – because those are the qualities that separate hot guys from douche-nuggets with decent dimples.
Hot guys, you and I know that treating someone you’re dating like they’re disposable isn’t hot. Pretending to be sincere just to get laid isn’t hot. Expecting your friends to grovel at your feet because you attract more tail when you’re out together — not hot; and walking around like the world owes you something because someone invested money in your fake-ass, store-bought smile when you were a kid: Not. Hot. And yet, we’re constantly confusing the two of you: the hot, virtuous man and the reprehensible, dishonest dick-for-brains.
This is a problem. It’s a problem because soon enough, being attractive will be like wearing a big, painted sign that reads: Sleep with me if you’re in the mood to lose your faith in humanity. We’re going to grow wary of you, hot guys. Did you know that? Did you know we’re going to be skeptical of you almost immediately? You’re kind of at a disadvantage, here. Those who have been burned by your doppelgangers will be reluctant to believe a word that passes through your (admittedly attractive) lips, no matter how earnest. An average-looking asshole is more likely to win our trust than you are, hot and humble man, simply because your contemporaries have given you a bad rap. I don’t condone it — perpetuating the hot guy stereotype — but the stigma exists. Let’s work to erase it.
It’s time to take a stand. Take back the title you’ve so rightfully earned. The next time your asshole friend disrespects a woman, don’t high-five him for it (this makes you a douche-by-association, which… you guessed it! Not hot.) Tell him to quit being a prick and remind him that he won’t be pretty forever. Remind him that working out and empty sex won’t fix his obnoxious personality. Remind him that even though people might find him attractive or charming for a fleeting moment, no one will ever respect him. Including you. Then find a deserving lady and show him how to treat one.
A | A | A
It started with a right swipe, a little green heart. Tinder of course.
Though I acknowledge and appreciate the differences in human experiences, and while your heartbreak is (and always will be) uniquely and completely your own, I must urge you to consider that I have been where you are.
With his hat cocked back, body tilted away from his cane, and right forefinger pointing directly at his audience, Joseph Ducreux commands the attention of those viewing his self-portrait.
I was born in 1990; he was born in 1973. I’m 23; he just turned 40.