As I sat in the sun on my hotel’s pool deck in Key West on a perfect February afternoon watching scads of scantily clad women sporting gaudy diamonds on the third finger of their left hands who obviously married for money, I began to think – what is the longest run-on sentence I could construct? Besides that, I wondered who those women were. Being the inquisitive sort, I asked several of them, informing them I was writing a book on the perfect marriage. Some were quite forthcoming when they found I was buying drinks, and especially after invoking my gay lisp while flaunting my daughter’s fake Michael Kors manpurse. I’ve found almost any woman will open up to a gay man faster than the legs of a cheap Filipino whore. Contrary to what you might believe, you don’t have to be gay to hang out in Key West. Sure, there are a large contingent of homosexual men, but every major metropolis has the same situation. Honestly, I’ll take a gay man over a bitchy princess anytime – those guys are incredibly fun! Anyway, here’s what I learned.
Surprisingly, many of these women told different variations of the same story. Histories as former beauty queens were quite common. Most made a really big deal about high school glory days. Prom queens. Homecoming queens. Cheerleaders. Some admitted they knew men longed, swooned, fantasized, and fought for them back in the day. Others bragged about commanding only the best looking jocks. One woman, wearing a little too much makeup and an obscene amount of perfume, told me she had her choice of any man or woman in her tiny circle of immaturity as she put her hand on my leg and whispered dangerously close. Check please.
I noticed many of these women seemed to be frozen in time. Not style-wise, like that woman many of us know with the Pat Benetar haircut still wearing neon tie-dies and leg warmers, but mentally. Some never escaped their high school mindset. The beauty queen persona was set in stone, and 20, 30, even 40 years later, the woman she sees in the mirror today is that same wrinkle-free, perfect skin girl she was her senior year of high school. Honestly, the superiority complex I had witnessed seventeen times that day seemed quite disturbing the more I got into this. My sample is small and not statistically significant, but the age and geographic distribution provided enough information to develop yet another thought provoking theory.
In Key West, I only spoke with women who exhibited a certain savoir faire, knowing these women were a minority subset of those I really needed to interview. I wondered about the majority of former beauty queens who were more psychologically intact, and especially those who realized they had fallen from grace. Those who once possessed unwieldy power to scorn those not blessed with what is typically considered beauty, often to the point of driving another woman (or man) to a semester, a year, a four-year term, or sometimes a lifetime of disillusionment and even depression. I wondered if the normies realized they too were mere mortals, finding they’re not much different than any other of today’s average PTA mom. What effect would this realization have on their psyche?
A close friend of mine married one of these women when she entered free agency. She straddled the line somewhere between superiority and normalcy, slanting slightly towards the former. Her first marriage to the high school star athlete crashed and burned after five years and two offspring. She had put on a few pounds, and as blondes know, life is much more harsh to fair-haired women when it comes to wrinkles. The extra weight helped fill her crows feet a bit. But she strutted when she walked, almost always in heels, and dressed to impress. My buddy was infatuated from first sight. She was a very demanding woman, attending every function she could with other like-minded socialites in her sleepy town, always wearing the latest fashions, and eschewing her Coach handbag for Michael Kors whenever that switch became appropriate. He still thinks she’s stunning. I think he needs a new pair of glasses. To me, she looks exactly like any other middle school bimbo mother who’s trying much to hard to hang on to the last threads of a youth long gone.
Beauty is most certainly in the eye of the beholder. What floats my buddy’s boat is a much more salty brine. He’s not nearly as experienced, cerebral, or cynical as I am. Wisdom has shown me that true beauty is inside a person and can be found through a positive and supportive attitude. My girl is certainly no slouch in the looks department, but she is an undeniably beautiful person. Further, those who try a bit too hard to enhance their appearance and attract attention usually won’t display an attractive personality. Perhaps that’s what bothers me about my buddy’s girlfriend, almost to the point of being repulsive.
So gentlemen, before you pursue that chick at the pool who’s desperately trying to hang on to youth and is persuaded more by material things than by true happiness, ask yourself one question: do you really want to settle for sloppy seconds?