Who doesn't love the magic of social media? You download Tinder because you lack the confidence to talk to a girl in real life. You choose a girl solely based on her looks and swipe the ugly ducklings that repulse you back into obscurity without a second glance. You make these decisions more often than not while sitting on the toilet, trawling through hundreds of girls. You get a match and not only is she beautiful, but the girl looks as though she has an incredible sense of adventure too. Not a modest selfie in sight. Her movie references are on point and her taste in music could form the soundtrack to your lives together. She’s both funny and charming. Seemingly perfect.
Why not meet up? Oh well, see, she only displays four pictures on her Tinder profile. Any girl could look good four times in their lives, right? So you steer the chat to get her surname, thus supplying you with the ammunition to find her on Facebook and critique her further. You hadn’t seen her legs before. Smoking hot pins, great calves and five toes on each foot. Dayumm, she hot. Oh no, hold on a second. A bit of zoom action. Is that a birthmark on her left knee? You clean your screen to make sure it’s not just a smudge from the chocolate you gorged on last night while watching that movie (alone again). Hmm, maybe it’s just a freckle? What to do? Unsure, you decide it’s better to cool off this chick just to be safe. Can’t be seen out in public with some sort of leopard skinned she-cat freak. You’re a gent though, not like the rest of them. Let her down softly. Tell her you’ve just come out of a serious relationship. Or you’re going away for a while. Or you suspect that you might be into the other sex. And just like that, she’s gone. How could anyone not love this thing?
We are a ruthless generation, conveniently avoiding emotional confrontation as a result of such virtual eject buttons. Most human interaction is done online without personal consequences to the perpetrator, although you can be sure that feelings are being hurt daily on the other side of the coin. Cyber bullying is, without question, a major offence today, yet such is the fragile nature of our virtual reputations that the smallest inquisitive emoji can have devastating consequences. That innocuous addition of the embarrassed monkey at the end of your comment could force princess Rachel to scalp her head, download American History X and change her name to Roxy because she may never be popular with the ‘cool’ kids. How does such a trivial act illuminate our insecurities? And why the fuck do we care what people think anyway? The apparent necessity to fit in will lead to the demise of the individual. Who are we to determine imperfection?
Advertisement
I remember an old school friend of mine started dating a girl ‘way out of his league’. Not my words. That expression is a myth founded on rejection. If the girl thinks she’s too pretty for a guy making an effort, she’s evidently a cold shallow bitch and the guy is better off without her. Vice versa, if the guy’s too intimidated by a girl’s looks to even contemplate approaching her, then he’s clearly not deserving of such a prize. Confidence isn’t the offspring of beauty, prime example typing right here. And having it, doesn't guarantee success. But it’s infinitely better casting a reel than not to experience the thrill of the chase at all. There’s too many fish out there not to get a bite eventually. And in my friend’s case, he caught a beauty.
She was a babe. Mesmerising eyes, a radiant smile, a great body, a bubbly personality and an enchanting singer. My buddy on the other hand was gifted with a pair of char grilled lamb chops for eyebrows. He looked like a cartoonist’s depiction of a very angry man, only he was permanently animated. But he had the balls to go for it and here he was with this goddess on his shoulder. We often wondered how a fella like him ended up with an angel. Instead of being happy for the guy we’d joke that there was something wrong with her. Maybe she had no nipples or farted during sex one time? Anything to help us come to terms with our mate’s fortune. Why couldn't we just accept it and forget our jealousy? Maybe it’s because, deep down, in our evil subconscious, we knew we were right. Sure enough, there was a revelation one evening seemingly hollower than our hearts. She only had one leg. What a relief! Faith in humanity restored. She wasn't 'perfect' after all. And all of a sudden we were satisfied and needless to say, they’re no longer together.
