Another day being handsome. How do I endure?
I wonder sometimes how the un-handsome make it through their do-nothing days. How do they make ends meet? Not only monetary ends, but their emotional ends, too. How do they attempt to apply meaning to what could only be a dreary, unaesthetic life? I think about that sometimes after I’ve had a glass or two of Cabernet and I’m listening to sad music or Kenny Loggins. But moreso I wonder how people who are just like me — the uber-handsome caste — make it through their days without buying into, or succumbing to, the external pressures applied them by their unhandsome peers. How do we control the handsomeness without being thoroughly untouchable? How do we handle the guilt we bear for being the visual examples of perfection?
The untouchable aspect of handsomeness is immoral, and so I have a real problem with that, but I don’t quite yet know how to avoid it or how to make it right. They didn’t quite explain that while I was growing up a handsome young man of America.
And so here I am today, suffering along with the rest of you, but with my own curse and pain, trying to figure it all out, while trying not to look at you. I write about my plight here so that you better appreciate it. I don’t wish for you to feel pity for me, rather for you to understand my horrors.
Your handsome pal of America.
[c] 2008 Russ of America
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