The last sane bloke in Chicago

Me + Models

I'm in Rio de Janeiro for a few days, not sure how long, but definitely at least 3. It's a LONG ass flight from the States (can take over 24 hours depending on how many hops you take).

This week is a Fashion 2009 week in Brazil's winter. It's basically 85 degrees all season, so it's perfect. I'm staying on the coast, on the same floor as 2 friends of mine who are in the industry.

I have a history in the fashion industry, namely because one of my first serious girlfriends was a model and I'd visit her on some photo shoots. Through her I made contacts, and those contacts have become friends for almost 2 decades now. Amazing how the most pompous and self-involved people can be the best friends a guy can have.

I've always been considered the uper-confident, semi-ugly faced guy with gorgeous girlfriends by my friends (male and female alike). The females hate my pretty girlfriends, the males are jealous because most of them are far better looking than I and can barely land Ugleah McTrollhag as their own.

It's always been an odd thing for me to ponder, wondering WHY a man would want to date a model. I stopped, many years ago, because the inside of the relationship is difficult, to say the least.

The models I dated were all pretty much fucked up women, save for my first and last. They started their careers young, 14-15, and progress to a riot-riddled lifestyle of drugs, sex, lack of eating, and getting canned by their agencies when they put on 10#. It's uncool and stressful. I was once hanging out with a gal in Ipanema about 6 years ago who was bragging about which rock stars she slept with. I whistled over two female friends of mine and read them the same list as this gal (she was probably 18). "Yes. Yes. Oh, for sure. Uh-huh. Him, too." Pretty much standard fare for models to be banging rock stars, and those rock stars banging all the other models. There's no cool in that.

Yet my guy friends will always ask me how I end up dating gorgeous women. It's not that I have a propensity to WANT gorgeous women (note: many of the most beautiful are the most fucked up and insecure people you'll ever meet, and get haggard the minute their looks go from age). It's not that attractive women are attracted to me in the least.

The secret is simple: intimidating women don't intimidate me. Celebrities, models, rock starettes, whatever. They're just women. But because most guys lack in confidence of their own character and abilities, the models tend to date rock stars, politicians, actors and other models: all guys who exude confidence. Women can smell confidence from a mile-away.

Then there's me: I'm short, I definitely could use a lot of plastic surgery to fix years of damage to my facial bone structure and skin, and I don't turn heads. But I'll walk up to any woman I think is interesting from afar and talk. I don't care if she's 6'2" in heels and a size 0 and every guy is staring at her in the room, I'll make eye contact, twice, and if she looks back, I head in.

Get the number, bust out of there or talk to someone else. Why would I drool? Why would I get nervous? What's the worst thing that could happen? She could shoot me down, oh no, end of my life!

Things get tricky here, though. Because the good looking, best looking women tend to NOT get hit on realistically by men, they have a shallow dating pool. I expand it. I'm interesting, I'm mysterious, I do things different from others. They may not like my face or my body, but they love my mind and they love the adventure I am sure to pull them through.

If I go and hit on the average or below-average girl, she already has 5000 men hitting on her. I have a good friend who is average looking. She's carrying quite a bit of fat. There, I said it. She always brags about how many guys hit on her in bars. Know why they do? Because she is not intimidating. She's an easy catch. I don't tell her this is why.

And yet, when I talked to her the first time I met her, she shunned me instantly. We'd run into each other again and again, and became friends, but no more. Then she got older, gained weight, forgot to take care of herself, and my attraction was completely gone towards her. Yet if I bring a gorgeous gal I am dating out on the town, she'll throw terrible looks and critique ME for dating her. Average girl shoots me down, hot girl doesn't, then average girl gets mad about it. What a waste of time for average girl. So why do I want to date an average girl? Ugh.

I'm not ranting about it, I'm just laughing about it. I'd LOVE to date someone average, as I consider myself average in most ways. Alas, it doesn't happen, ever. Average women want above average men to make them feel better about their averageness. It's normal. So I go to the pool of women that doesn't get hit on as much, at least not by guys worth anything more than their own bodies or singing abilities.

Ahh, Rio. I love Rio. I love the beauty of the city, the beauty of the people (superficial, mind you), the freedom in movement and dance and fun. But I won't touch a woman here. Disease, drugs, internal sadness, external abuse. They're gorgeous to look at, fun to talk to, superficially fun to hang out with. But fucking them? Won't happen. Not without about 2 years of STD tests and a monogamous commitment. But it's good eye candy, and it DOES stroke my ego.

Last night I went to a club to make contact with my handler (the person who sends me to my final customer in a given city) and to meet with some friends to make plans for this week. I am staying 2-3 nights TOPS. I actually want to get back to Chicago for RibFest that I never miss. Yes, I prefer food over hot women dancing and gay men literally getting naked on the dance floors of gay clubs.

While chatting with my 2 gal pals who are working the week, both are ready to move onto other jobs. One finished college (materials engineering or something), the other is going to manage a photographer's schedule. Both are intelligent and knock-out, drop-dead gorgeous. One of them I would CONSIDER sleeping with if she would get the full-pack STD test, but sadly she's not hip on it. Too bad, too. She's half asian and half latina and we've smashed lips more times than I can count, so she definitely would lower her standards for a week of hardcore tearing in the Caymans or Madrid (or just Akron OH, where she's from). Eh.

They introduced me to some of their friends: guys, gals, etc. I drank, I talked, I swapped email addresses and even passed out my Chicago Sane business cards to some. I need to add my twitter there, ugh.

I looked at about a half dozen women and thought if I'd sleep with any of them. No, no, no, yes, no, no. The one yes was probably the least attractive of the group, but she had a shy quality, not really confident in her skin. So I talked to her. 18. Ouch. Beautiful face, beautiful body, great clothes, but not confident. We chatted an hour, danced a bit, and she admitted that she was out of sorts, as it was her first international shoot and convention. She does clothing shoots for a large retailers in the States. She's from Canada. She was really smart, too.

When I left, she asked if I was partying somewhere else. I told her I had to get home to sleep, so she gave me her celly and a hug + kiss on the cheek. I'm not interested. It won't happen, because of my desire to stay clean. As I get older, staying clean is very important to me. I always wear condoms, but safety is a must in certain scenes. Plus I'm saving up my energy for the vaginal pummeling I hope to offer a sweet and sexy (and even hot) out-of-town gal in the future.

At least the options are still out there. I love the fact that these egomaniacs don't have a single ounce of feminist entitlement, something I run from in the States. The KNOW they're pretty, but they have almost no confidence about themselves as people. I'm really good at working with this (not fixing, though). I'm good at being a mirror to a person's real ability.

Should I fail with Jane Average in the States in my life, I'll probably return to this market. It was a LOT of fun. There are tons of guys in their 40s and 50s in the scene, most who just have a bundle of cash and no real personality. When I come along, Mr. Personality, I'm usually noticed.

Again, this is all about markets. The women and girls here don't get a lot of attention from guys with personalities, especially guys who don't care one bit about their lives or careers. I ask them what they're going to do in five years, and most are shocked that I even consider it. I don't care who they slept with, what magazines they've shot for, or which runway they hope to walk in 3 months. I don't ask if they're holding (drugs) or offer to party with them back at my jacuzzi.

The future. It's odd how contrarian and opposite I am compared to most guys. I'm happiest when an above average lady is interested in me, not caring for the same things other guys care about. I don't work for money, I work for fun. I am exciting for most, but I don't push it or sell it as a bonus. Life is just this path I walk, interweaving my own life with others who I like and who like me.

Rio reminds me of this. There's more to life than the streets of Chicago. There's many more people than those I come across back home. It's huge. I can meet 50,000 people in cafés in my future, men, women, customers, friends, lovers, whatever. And that is one reason I always smile.

Posted by ChicagoSane at 10:57 PM

Labels: average women, dating, models