How To Tell a Stranger They're Beautiful

Sure, it sounds easy.  Just head on up and say, “Hey there, angel-eyes, is it legal to look that good?”  Splash on some cologne, show off the guns and show a little chutzpah, right?  Nay!  Guess what?  That’s the road to becoming “That Guy”.  In this context, “That Guy” means “Douchebag”, you Douchebag.  Take your unjustified self-confidence and get the hell off of my blog!  (And shave that pencil-thin chin-outline you call a beard, you look lame.  By the way, that tattoo of barbed wire on your arm isn’t “tough-looking”, it says “I’m a bottom”. )

They gone?  Good.  I hate those a-holes.

Where was I?  Oh yeah.  

It really isn’t that easy.  Especially to those of us that don’t have all that douchebag-level of self-confidence.  Plus, if you do just go for broke and say it, you’re not taking into account a number of issues that need to be addressed.  (Trust me, this crap can get complicated.) Luckily for you, I’ve gone and done most of the over-thinking needed. (Don’t thank me, just doing my vastly underpaid job.)

First important issue:  Motivation.

Why have you elected to do this?  This is a much more important issue than you may think, because it is also contains a hidden danger.  If you’re doing it to “impress”, or “get digits”, than that is the campaign trail to be President-Elect of Douchebag-aria and why the hell are you still reading this, I told you to SCRAM!  Douchebag!

Yes, doing this as a pick-up line is a hidden danger.  Because it’s not supposed to be a pick-up line… it’s supposed to be a compliment.  A simple, sincere compliment.(Emphasis on “Sincere”.) If you’re doing this to get in someone’s good graces as an effort to eventually get them naked (or ask them for money, or a recipe, or whatever)… then it immediately becomes “You’re only saying this because you want something.”  Even if you honestly do believe them to be beautiful, the fact of you trying to take it further suddenly makes it sound like complete bullshit. Something that is merely: A means to an end.

This is not supposed to be a means to an end.  It’s supposed to be an end in itself.  You follow me on this?  Hear what I’m talking about?  I’m saying that this is something to which you will receive no reward.  Not even as a long-term plan.  Your return-on-investment on this is NOTHING.  Zero. Nada. Zilch.  A big bowl of “Nut ‘n Honey”, and I’m not talking about the breakfast cereal.

Sincerity is the name of the game here folks.  Like what Linus looks for in a Pumpkin-Patch, there needs to be “Sincerity as far as the eye can see.”  Without it, you’re on the way to becoming the Douchebag (justified or not… just being seen as a Douchebag isn’t a good thing).  

Sure, maybe you’re not a douchebag, but still consider yourself one of those “I don’t care what others think” kind of people.  “So, if they think I’m a douchebag, so what?” Well, for one, that attitude’s getting dangerously close to actually being a douchebag, so I’d start re-thinking some life choices, if I were you.  (Just sayin’)  Second of all, your target’s perception of the situation… is part of the POINT of this exercise.  Here, you have to care what the other person, a complete stranger, thinks at that moment where you say it.  Otherwise:  Mission fail, even if you think it didn’t.

Okay, so why does it have to be a stranger?  What’s wrong with saying it to a friend, or even just someone you know?  Again, sincerity can be a factor.  A compliment like that, even if meant 100%, can be taken with a, “Oh, they’re only just saying that because they’re my friend.”  Or you could get, “Wait a minute, is this person trying to make a move?  I hope they know I only want to be friends, but now it’s all awkward!”  Now granted, it might work out totally in your favor… and there’s nothing wrong with telling your friends that you think they’re beautiful… I’m just saying:  You’re on your own, but good luck.

Well, my motivation comes down to two things:  One, when reading PostSecret, or browsing around on Tumblr, or elsewhere around the internet where strangers find the freedom to express themselves anonymously… I occasionally see a wish posted that says, “I wish a stranger would tell me I’m beautiful.”  I thought… why a stranger?  Well, if a stranger approaches you to say that they are honestly attracted to you physically, then the “beautiful” part starts out honestly.  But if they’re STILL a stranger afterwards, not asking for anything… then it confirms that the only motivation was a true and honest opinion… that you are in fact, beautiful.  There’s a lovely romance in that wish.  And it’s one that I can have the ability grant to others.  (Even sometimes make that wish for myself… even though I don’t consider myself much of a “romantic”.)

Secondly… there are some people that I think really deserve to hear it.

Second important issue:  Location

You do have to pick your location fairly carefully.  You don’t want to do it in an obvious place.  Doing it in a bar or nightclub… why bother?  First of all, it’s hard to hear (which affects later issues)… and for another thing, people that go there are usually all dolled up to the nines TRYING to look like that.  So if that compliment comes, it still going to have the element of “Oh, they’re just saying that because I’m showing all this skin”.  But wouldn’t that compliment mean a little more if you heard it while wearing jeans and a t-shirt, coming out of the post-office, showing no skin and even wearing minimal make-up?  One location is where people are fishing for those kinds of compliments, and the other is where it’s totally unexpected.  Ironically enough, it’ll be more appreciated in the location where it’s a surprise, believe me.

I’ve done this a few times at my gym.  Which is a risky location, I know.  Because people there are “trying” to look good (in a long-term sense), while maybe not necessarily looking “club/bar-level good” at that moment.  Also, you may still see the individual after the compliment is given.  But with the nature of the gym, you can still remain strangers with just about everyone.  Just as long as you’re careful and selective, so you don’t become seen as another “That Guy”.  (In this case, “That Guy That Tries To Pick Up Chicks At The Gym”.  Too many in too short a time, and that’s who you are.) But on the plus side, you can do a bit more pre-observation on the target, so as to make a slightly more informed choice on whether or not the individual is worthy of receiving said compliment.

Which brings me to the third issue:  Selection.

You have to be selective.  You can’t say it to just every pretty face in the joint, eventually making your way to everyone over a period of time.  I don’t care if you think you’re freaking Rudolph Valentino and say “Every woman is beautiful!”… that doesn’t make you a lothario, that makes you a horndog with low standards.  (And if Rudolph Valentino was really that great, don’t you think the other reindeer would have asked him to join their reindeer games?)  Certainly, there is merit to the statement “Every woman is beautiful”; Every individual woman is going to be considered beautiful to some other individual.  In my first apartment in California, I shared a kitchen with a 400-lb. woman.  She was a sweet soul and all, but not physically attractive to my eyes (especially after seeing her eat 3 packs of Ramen Noodles in one meal).  I hope she found someone that sees her as beautiful… but I’m okay in admitting I’m not one of those guys.

So, even if you’re like me, and believe that Beauty does come in many shapes and sizes, you still have to draw the line somewhere.You’ll still have a decent-sized pool to choose from.  Now, you have to start narrowing it down, to find the one that you believe really deserves to hear it.

Now, from here on the selection process involves making possible assumptions about people based on looks alone.  No, that’s not 100% respectable, I understand.  If a lawyer pointed that out in court, I’d sound like a sexually-harassing a-hole.  In fact, saying it here could be evidence for ME being a douchebag.  That’s a risk I have to run.  But the pool has to be narrowed down somehow; otherwise, again, it means nothing.

Okay, first thing I do is eliminate the “Hot” girls.  I mean the ones that are stereotypically “Hot”.  They subscribe to the media-barrage standards of what “Hot” is.  Look at the way they carry themselves.  You can usually tell by looking at someone if they have the “I’m Hot and I know it” attitude.  I’m not saying look for the ones that have low-self-esteem… just eliminate the ones that have maybe too-high of self-esteem.  They obviously don’t need the boost, and the compliment would probably be wasted on them, anyway.

In the gym, it’s a touch easier to spot them, because every muscled jackhole is trying to flirt with them.  Now, me being an introvert, I’m a bit of a people-watcher, so I occasionally notice things like that as I’m going from exercise to exercise.  I don’t think the Gym is a place for socializing; it’s for getting work done, and getting healthy.  So the flirters tend to stick out.  The meathead guys usually go for the stereotypical “Hot” women, because they think the amount they can bench-press deserves the lady’s attention.  And the gals being flirted with have most likely heard it all before.  For them, they might not even make the differentiation between “Hot” and “Beautiful”, so it all sounds the same to them.  So, it’s probably a wasted effort on our part, and even more a likely chance they’d think “Ugh, what a creep-o.” (Unless I had a six-pack stomach and Calvin Klein-underwear model looks, then they’d probably respond favorably.  Hey, there are shallow women, too.)

So the stereotypical Hot ones… out.  Sorry, that’s the way it goes.

Ideally, what you want, is someone who is beautiful… but maybe isn’t told so very often.  Which is a pretty big category, sadly.  Maybe it’s more accurate to say:  Someone beautiful… who considers themselves “average-looking”, and is okay with that.  Or even that believes “The right person will think I’m beautiful.”  (Acknowledging that not everyone will) Well, even if I’m not the right person… I can see it.  And I think that’s a person worth telling it to.  I think the compliment wouldn’t be lost on someone like that.

Actually pinpointing that kind of person… is a crap shoot, I admit.  But a big part of it probably comes down to what YOU consider to be “Beautiful”, and how that might compare to a friend’s opinion.  If you see someone as beautiful… but think they’re probably the type some friends of yours would say, “Eh, she’s pretty.” Or “She’s alright”.  Right there, it’s obvious that you are seeing them in a higher opinion then someone else… in which case, you’re on the right track.  Got yourself a potential candidate there.

But don’t go jumping the gun!  I see you’re about to jump on over there and make your presence known… hold up! You can’t do it right this second!  Why?  Issue #4, my friend:  Timing!

You swagger over there at this moment, you’re right back to the “Douchebag” issue.  You might as well put on the Douchebag club pin right now!  (Hey, didn’t I kick you out of here earlier?  No?  You sure?  Yeah, right… I’m watching you, Buster!)

Timing is vital on this, I really believe that.  You don’t want to interrupt anything.  If she’s hanging out with friends, forget it.  Even if you did manage to compliment her, the friends will either scoff and make fun of you for trying a “pick-up” in front of them, (cock-blocking even when you weren’t attempting to… “cock”?) or maybe even get jealous and say, “What about me?  Am I Beautiful?”… and you don’t want to be prompted to say it out of obligation, because then it even feels like bullshit, and deep down, they know it’s not as satisfying because you were prompted.  No, you need to catch them when they’re alone.  At the gym… don’t interrupt them in the middle of a set.  That’s just rude.  And besides, you’d rather have their full concentration, not splitting it with “what number rep am I on?”  Full concentration can help with full appreciation.  So, during a workout is very tricky.  Maybe the only time you could get away with it is when they’re wiping down the exercise machine.

But you also don’t want to do it with anyone around.  Even if outsiders don’t care, for the target… if it’s something they might find embarrassing (whether by virtue of “can’t take a compliment” or “someone is making a fuss over me, oh no”), you want to minimize the potential for that happening.  This should be a fairly private moment… no one else’s business.  In the parking lot is a good place, where most other people would be out of earshot, if they’re even around.  (Yet, it’s not so private that she would have to worry about her safety… you want to minimize any potential “threat” factor for her, too.)

But don’t stand and wait for her in the parking lot.  Because this is the element you pretty much should leave up to fate.  IF you find yourself in a comfortable public-yet-non-threatening-private-ish location… IF you find yourself in said location with the target in close proximity… IF the target is not otherwise occupied… and IF there’s no interlopers in the area, then you should be good to go.  But it can be a small window of opportunity, that could be easy to miss.  Go about your business, and if the paths cross with the circumstances in the right place… well, okay.  But if you two are parked on opposite sides of the parking lot… don’t go in her direction until you get in her earshot.  Make the approach just before the actual path split.  Go a little out of your way, but not a lot.  Going too much out of your way… can be creepy.  

Yes, this does mean that it’s possible that opportunity will never arise.  It may happen.  That’s okay.  Let the Grand Imaginary Powers of Coincidence do their thing, and if those Powers are kind… you’ll have your window of opportunity to make your approach.  (Okay, you can help them along a teeny bit, by picking up your pace, or slowing it a little; if it betters the chances of being at the ideal spot at the same time.  Just don’t be obvious about it, and be prepared to abort on the slightest notice, okay?)

Now, we come to The Approach.  The fifth issue.

Don’t go starting with a “Hey Toots.”  Or a “Yo, wait up.”  Forget about “Hey Girl!” And do NOT even think about a “Howyoudoin?”  Don’t go into it with cockiness, or suaveness, or Valentino, or tough-jock attitude.  Frankly, in this instance, for what is actually trying to be achieved…  do not step in with “confidence”.  You go in with confidence when you want something, when you’re pursuing someone with intentions that are, in essence, selfish.  (Which isn’t always a bad thing… but it’s just not the point of this.)  Here, I’m saying go with something else.  Not with the opposite of confidence, but something a bit more towards that side of the spectrum:  Humility.

A simple “Excuse me”.  Not said with a tough attitude, or a wink, or a seductive tone… but rather with the attitude of “You would do me the honor of bequeathing 5 seconds of your attention in my direction.”  Gentleman-like, that’s all.  If they don’t hear, or keep walking… then abort mission.  The moment has passed… no harm, no foul.  Just enjoy the rear view for 2 more seconds (hey, I’m only human), and then keep on your merry way.

Chances are, you will get their attention.  Then it’s the time for the truth.  Just make sure it IS the truth, otherwise, you’ve screwed this up way back at the beginning.

For me, I find myself usually introducing the statement:  “I just wanted to say…”  As I think it would feel too “weirdo” for me just to say cro-magnon-like “Ungh… you boot-ee-fall.”

Now, I also tend to throw in a little extra something… mainly because I’m paranoid, and I honestly want the person to be complimented and not weirded-out.   And despite all precautions, this could still be seen as an unsettling experience.  So, either just before or just after I’ll say “I really hope you don’t feel uncomfortable by this… it’s not a pick-up or anything…”  Though, I’m usually kicking myself afterwards for adding that.  I don’t know… maybe I’m using too much humility in there.

But, now it’s been said… bringing us to the last issue:  Reaction.

This is not only about the Target’s reaction… but yours as well.  For the Target… you really only want them to be gracious.  A simple smile and thank-you… recognition and appreciation.  It’s awesome if they are genuinely moved by your sentiment… but that won’t always happen.  Anything beyond simple “appreciation” is gravy, quite frankly.

But your reaction can also be a factor… remember:  This is not a pick-up.  You are not to ask anything from this person.  But if she does think it’s a pick-up, and rejects you, thenyou have to remain gracious, say, “That’s okay… I just wanted to say that.  Nothing more required.” Then politely excuse yourself.  

This is another reason that you can’t make it a pick-up… because a rejection may come.  But you won’t actually feel rejected, if you’re sincerely NOT doing it as a pick-up.  Because there’s nothing to be rejected… and the compliment still stands.  (It’s not that I’m afraid of rejection… okay, I am, but that’s completely beside the point…)  But if you compliment her, she rejects… and you feel rejected?  What do most douchebags say?

“Stupid bitch, you’re ugly anyways.”

“Lesbo.”

“Dumb whore!  Screw you!”

Yeah, they retaliate with an insult to save their precious egos… and also makes the original compliment completely null and void.  Good work, asshole.  Now do you see why I kicked you out in the first place?  There’s nothing wrong with letting the lady have the last word.  If they truly were worth the effort in the first place, they’ll remember you met rejection with a sense of grace, and did not take back what you said… which means you must have really meant it.  And they’d probably be a little humbled by that… congratulations, you’ve made them a better person!

Even if her reaction is ideal… you still need to excuse yourself quickly, lest the awkward-phase descend, and the sincerity of the gesture disappears.  

I know I said to take out the confidence and come in with humility… but oddly, if you do this way, you actually demonstrate a different kind of confidence.  The confidence of honesty.  Too often, the people who are overly-confident in this world, seem to have no problem lying their ass off, to get what they want.  And those same confident people who say they’re “just being honest” about something, are usually saying something pretty shitty.  As a whole, we’re pretty much trained that when someone says, “Hey, I’m just being honest here…” you know they’re going to say something you’re not going to like.  (That’s actually known as “Liar Liar Honesty”.)   So here… you can actually throw them for a bit of a loop… in a very good way.  Under the insistence of sincere, unadulterated honesty… you can actually make their day.  Which doesn’t happen nearly enough in this world.

I have recently said this to someone.  It’s been a long while since I’ve last done it, and hadn’t even considered it in that time.  (Granted, it’s not something I wake up and say, “I’m going to find someone to compliment today”.  I just try to keep my eyes open and if the occasion occurs… great.  I tend to average once every 9 months or so.)  She goes to my gym, and I started noticing her every now and then when I was on the cardio machines.  Then I realized I was noticing her more and more.  If I was on the stair-climbers in the back of the room, and she jumped on one of the treadmills directly in the next row up… I’d say to myself:  “Cool… I get a nice view today.”  As neutral as I was keeping my attitude, with regards to the people around me at the gym… she seemed to stand out, by not really doing anything at all.  She kept to herself… did her workout and leave.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her talk to anyone… just does her thing and moves on. 

She has very short, brunette hair… and I don’t really know why, but I have a semi-“thing” for short-haired brunettes.  Now, short hair doesn’t work on every woman… but those it does work on, it looks really good.  And believe me… on this woman, it looks freaking great.  It suits her incredibly well.  She has an angular-face (and I like angular faces… again, not sure why), gorgeous eyes… she looks simply Beautiful.  With a capital B.  And I know I’m going on only looks alone, and maybe it seems a bit shallow (but right now, I don’t care.  Bite me.)… but if you asked me at the time, “Of all the women in this room… which one physically looks like someone you’d want to fall in Love with?”  I’d probably say her.  This is not meant to sound “stalkerish”… just “very admiring of her appearance”.

Now, I don’t know if she’s married or taken (I haven’t seen a ring on her finger, but doesn’t mean it isn’t there… or maybe she takes it off for her workout), I don’t know her personality, her name… heck, I don’t even know if she’s in my age-range for dating.  She could even be Lesbian, who knows?  All I know is her appearance.  And she is absolutely in my definition of Beautiful.

So, I thought about it for a bit… and decided, “If the opportunity comes around… I’ll tell her.”  Now, I don’t always see her there… for one, I don’t always go to the gym at the same time every day.  But when she is there, I usually spot her.  We never crossed paths, but I didn’t try to facilitate that happening.  (Like I said, it needs to be left to the Grand Imaginary Powers of Coincidence.)  Then, I finished up my workout, went to the locker room, walked around the old creepy naked dudes, got my stuff together and headed out.  Walking towards the front door, I pass by the staircase that leads down from the upstairs locker-room (the Women’s one).  I see out of the corner of my eye that someone is coming down it, probably will end up right behind me going out the door into the foyer.  So, once I go through, I pause and hold it open for that next person (a polite habit I’m fine with keeping).  I turn my head and see that it’s her… the Beautiful brunette.  She says, “Thanks” (for the door-holding… and a pretty voice, by the way), and goes ahead through the outer door.  The only other person that was there just went inside as we were coming out… so this looked like the opportunity.

It was raining a little, so she paused briefly as she stepped outside to put up the hood on her jacket…

“Excuse me?”

She turns and looks right at me, looking slightly surprised (understandable)… this is the first actual contact I’ve ever had with this woman.

“I… hope this doesn’t make you feel at all uncomfortable, but… I just wanted to say… I… think you’re incredibly beautiful.”

(I don’t know why I put so many pauses in there… not entirely intentional.  It’s not like I can “abort mission” anymore at that point.  I’m committed, gotta go through with it.)

She smiles… (a really nice smile, too) and says, “Oh, that’s so sweet!”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t meant to be a pick-up or anything… I just… wanted to say that.”

She says, “Thank you so much… that’s really sweet.  Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.  You have a good evening. “

“Thank you, you too!”

And we walk off to our separate cars.  I didn’t look to see what she was driving (that seems like a stalkerish detail to try and discover), just got into my car and headed off like normal.  (I was also being rained on, and I didn’t have the rain jacket with the hood.  Eh, it was worth getting wet.)

I’ve seen her at the gym a few times since, and we even passed by each other a few times.  Met with eye contact, and a smile.

It appears that the mission was a complete success.  She seemed genuinely appreciative of the compliment, as I hoped she would… and the aftermath is nice, too.  Doesn’t seem insulted or weirded out by me (as she’s at least acknowledging my existence)… and maybe exchanging a smile with me can be a nice reminder to her that yes, someone does find her sincerely Beautiful.  That’s a role I’m happy to play, and wouldn’t want to jeopardize.  And just maybe… I granted her a wish.

However, if SHE were to strike up a conversation with ME… then I’d have to say all bets are off.  (I just first have to make sure she’s not married/taken/lesbian/etc…)

But that’s how I tell a stranger she’s Beautiful.

Now, go kick a douchebag for me.

PostSecret Update: UVM

I said I’d do it… and here it is.

I finally got to go to a PostSecret event.

The last one that came close to my area… got cancelled a few days before it happened. Yeah, me not happy about that. Now, when I heard that the University of Vermont was hosting one… well, it’s the closest it has since come to me… so I’m going.

Burlington, Vermont is a 3 hour drive from me… so it was going to have to be a day trip. I figured I’d take a half-day at work, leaving at noon… and just get back REALLY late that night. The website said it was scheduled from 7pm to 10pm… so I was expecting to be home a little after 1:00am, probably later. Sure, the lack of sleep was going to be hell… but something about planning for it way ahead of time doesn’t make it seem so bad.

Of course, had I realized that the day before was Columbus Day, of which I had the day off… I might have just taken a full day for an extra-long weekend. Oh well.

After about a 3 hour drive, I got into Burlington. Now, I’d been there once before, about 11 years ago with some friends for a small day trip during college. But I didn’t drive, and I only remembered this little outdoor-mall area. As far as I knew, that was the extent of Burlington. I had forgotten the whole town was built around a fairly big school. (Or maybe it was vice-versa) I actually lucked out with my parking… I got into a tiny lot not far from the building where the presentation was going to be. Just as some lady from New York State was pulling out of a space, I snagged that one. (Score!)

I went to pick up the tickets (I ordered them online in advance… I’d be damned if I drove 3 hours to and from just to find that they were sold out), and saw that it was actually a chapel. Most of the buildings I saw looked to have that “chapel-like” architecture… but this was an actual chapel, yet it didn’t look like it was used for actual services. (If it was, they were very sparse with the religious iconography) I did see a sign that told me it WAS used for Tae-Kwon-Do classes… which I think is great! Hell, if I had that near me, I’d have gone to church more myself. There was a group of student workers setting up a table display of all 4 PostSecret books… and by “setting up”, I mean they were sitting and reading them. Couldn’t blame them… I’d be doing the same. Got the tickets from them, and called my friend that I was meeting.

She’s an old friend from college… I don’t think I’ve seen her since before I first went to California, but we kept in occasional communication. She’s the one that got me onto Facebook (or rather, the final person to prod me before I finally caved), and she drove up 2 hours herself to get there. She took the whole day off, and spent the whole day in Burlington.

I headed downtown to meet her, and on my way passed a picture stuck to a lamppost. It was a flyer advertising some local band concert or event (I don’t even remember what it was)… but as many of these college-type advertisers do, they grab humorous pictures from wherever they find (mostly the Net these days) and use them on their flyers, regardless of the copyright. Since its college, no one ever really cares. This picture… was of Chewbacca grabbing Princess Leia’s boob, and both turned giving a faux-shock gasp. This wasn’t a drawing… it was a PHOTO. And I *don’t* think it was photoshopped. My guess is it was a picture they took behind the scenes while goofing around during Empire Strikes Back. This part has nothing to do with PostSecret… it just made me laugh.

Met my friend and we went and got sushi. Mmmmm…. Sushi. We talked, did some catching up, and then headed to the chapel, as the doors were scheduled to open soon. When we arrived, there was already a fairly respectable line formed. We sidled on up and got in line. Soon after, the line started REALLY growing. Thank Jeebus we got in line when we did. The young lady that stood right behind us struck up a conversation, and we chatted for a bit… asking where we were from, how we heard about PostSecret and all that small-talk stuff. She was a nice gal, very pleasant, even ended up sitting next to us inside.

Looking at the rest of the crowd… I think my friend and I were probably the oldest ones there. Hmmm… I guess I was hoping for a little more age variation in the audience, but then again, it’s a college campus… what was I expecting? I also found myself surprised by the fact that there seemed to be very few guys in the crowd… it was probably 90% girls. Normally, I don’t mind being genderly outnumbered… but this situation felt a little off. Maybe it was just the combination of the two. *shrug*

Some security came around for a quick camera check (they weren’t allowed inside), and we started to slowly file in. The seats were pews (it was a chapel, after all), and we actually ended up with a pretty good view I thought. We weren’t right up to the stage, but we weren’t far back enough to have trouble seeing or reading anything that was up there. I thought we got a good spot.

We waited there for a while longer, and a little after 7:00, it started. Frank Warren, the guy who started and runs the site, came out… a very calm, unassuming guy. He didn’t exude an overpowering feel-good touchy-feely fakeness, he seemed humble, modest… normal. Hearing him talk, it felt… genuine. He wasn’t giving pseudo-pschological Oprah/Dr. Phil-style speeches about how you should feel good about yourself… in fact, the things he did talk about, and the stories he relayed… were about listening. He wasn’t the kind of guy that did a lot of talking… he listened.

That’s the best part about PostSecret… even the best part about when I was going to therapy for the time I did… just being able to have someone LISTEN to you. I mean, *truly* listen… without judging or just waiting for their turn to talk. And when you send in a postcard, you really do have someone listening… potentially thousands. But guaranteed… at least one.

When it came to the part of the presentation where the audience was invited to share their own secrets… with 2 microphone stands set up in the aisles. A few people started to get up and formed a small line at each. Frank had mentioned how the lines were always small at first, but quickly grew (mainly because few people are comfortable being first). After a few secrets were told, I turned to my friend and asked, “Should I?”

In retrospect, I know that just saying that is me looking for a “yes, go.” So even though she said, “I don’t know… do what you want”… I decided to get in line.

I’ve sent in secrets, texted them and randomly placed them around my gym… it seemed almost silly to drive 3 hours there and NOT say something. Was I going there for the experience to be just voyeuristic… or for it to be cathartic? I don’t know if it was ever about voyeurism (maybe a little bit)… but the other always seemed more important to me. So I got up.

Just after I did, Frank asked that no more people got in line… but we would hear those who were already there. I looked behind me… no one. I looked at the pattern of going back and forth between the two microphones… and figured out that I was going to be the LAST person that spoke one. More than not being first… I didn’t want to be the LAST one. Maybe the performer in me felt slightly pressured to give a really good last secret for people to end the night with, but mine wasn’t that kind of secret. But… when it got to me, I just said what I was going to. I tried to say it simply… I didn’t want to give explanation or a set-up, and I tried to pick the words carefully so it wouldn’t take long. I tried to say it like I would on a postcard.

Probably didn’t make a lot of sense to all the others… but it’s what I wanted to say, so screw ‘em.

The presentation ended not long afterwards… actually, I thought it was going to go a lot longer. It definitely could have. It was only about 8:30 when it finished. Frank was being taken over to the next building for the book signing portion of the evening, and most people were either leaving or heading over there. My friend decided to get on the road and head home… I wanted to hang around just a little longer.

I didn’t bring any of my PostSecret books to be signed… which is okay, because I’m not really into the autograph collecting. To me, the experience of being there was more important… and that happened whether I have an ink scribble to prove it or not. But I got into line anyway… because I just wanted to shake his hand. He’s read my secrets, he listened… as he’s done with a few hundred thousand others… and never violated that trust. I’ve only witnessed integrity from him and the website… and I think that’s worth a handshake.

When I got to the front of the line, and it was my turn… I told him, “I’ve sent in secrets… I’ve texted them, and even randomly placed them around…

… But never this one.”

And I handed him a folded up piece of paper… where I had written another secret. One I’ve never told ANYONE… one that I’ve never even formed into words, spoken or written. It’s not something *I* think is bad… but something that I was made to be ashamed of when I was a kid. I’ve never told my best friend… nor any of my girlfriends, not even the one I thought was “the one”. But I told him.

He smiled and thanked me, and shook my hand. I said, “Thank you… for all that you do.”

Then I turned around and walked away… then drove 3 hours to get home.

And you know something? The 6 hours of driving was completely worth it. While driving and reflecting on the trip… I started to tear up a little, and I’m not even completely sure why.

He’s been called, “The Most Trusted Stranger in America”… he humbly says he’s not so sure of that.

I think there’s a damn good argument for it.

Secret for Secret...

My love of the website PostSecret… ironically, is not a secret.

I last wrote about it almost a year ago… about the first postcard I sent in. Since writing that, I’ve made more postcards (like I said I would) and sent them in. Probably about 5 or 6 more. It *did* get easier to send those in. Some, I just wrote simply on the postcard, others I tried drawing.

None of them were ever posted… but like I said before, if you send it in with the expectation of them appearing on the site, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. The guy gets over 1,000 a week, and posts 25 of them. Odds aren’t in your favor.

But it’s the telling of the secret is the key. It’s entrusting it to a complete stranger… even potentially the world. Maybe even getting away from it. Giving the secret to someone else… because you don’t want it anymore.

Since last year, the site now has a presence on MySpace and Facebook, of which I also check every now and then (though not as often as the main site). These sites are mainly used as “what’s going on” with the site, and upcoming seminars/exhibits and whatnot… while the main site is solely for the weekly postcards, and nothing else.

Last Saturday, I was looking at the latest MySpace blog… and people have started posting their cell phone numbers in the comments section… for the purpose of letting strangers text-message secrets to them. The “instructions” just said to go to the latest one posted, and send it to that person. I thought that it could be dangerous… but honestly… I think the only people that READ the PostSecret MySpace blog… or the main site itself… are the kind of people that wouldn’t abuse it. Plus… you can always go back and remove your comment if you get too nervous.

I sent off a few of my own to some numbers that were posted. And a few minutes later:

I posted my own cell number.

Within 2 minutes… I got my first text-secret.

It… was a bit heavy. More so then I was expecting. It definitely showed me that this is an experience that isn’t F**king around.

But the trust it shows… to send that to *me*, and who the hell am I? It absolutely humbled me. Sorry, I won’t say what it is… because it *is* a secret. Entrusted to me, and I don’t tell secrets that aren’t mine to begin with. I took the secret so this person wouldn’t have to keep it. Hopefully, it helps them… they said it did.

Within the hour, I got several more. For the next 3 hours, until I went to sleep, I just lay on my bed, texting secrets back and forth to strangers from across the country… some told me their names, some asked for feedback. But I always exchanged a secret for a secret. I believe that’s part of the trust.

It felt… very intimate. Sharing some things that even people I’m close to don’t even know about me. I actually felt connected to so many people at once… it kinda feels like falling in Love. The trust I felt… the trust I gave… the vulnerability, seeing and feeling it… and especially NOT suffering embarrassment for it, or having it shoved back in your face.

I think I can honestly say… it was one of the most Beautiful experiences I’ve ever had. And you know I don’t take the word “Beautiful” lightly.

I was still texting a few people the next morning… continuing conversations. Now, I don’t have unlimited texts… but frankly, I don’t care. I’ll pay the extra fees… this experience was too wonderful to not continue as long as I could. I even got some new people texting me… even though there were more recent numbers posted after mine.

I wanted this to continue… I wanted to do something more.

So, I wrote out several secrets of mine… and when I went to the gym for my daily masochism/work-out… I placed them all around. (I don’t think anyone saw me) Didn’t put them in obvious places… but hopefully places where they would be found. I did notice a few people actually saw them… fewer actually picked them up to read them. But I don’t think anyone threw them away… at least when I was there. But the next day they were gone. So… I put out a few more. I’d like to think that someone was picking them up and keeping them… and not tossing them in the trash, but who knows? Maybe the gym isn’t the most empathetic place to hide secrets at… but the place does advertise itself as a “judgment free-zone”… so that makes it sound kind of appropriate. It’d be hypocritical if they frowned on my behavior… don’t you think?

Hiding those secrets… was fun. And a bit cathartic. Because like the texting and sending in the postcards… it’s a way to get away from the secret. To get rid of it, in a sense (though not really).

This whole past week has been filled with PostSecret for me. I discovered that there’s going to be a “PostSecret Event”… basically a seminar and exhibit, given by the founder, and it’s coming fairly close. By “fairly close”, I mean about 3 hours away. But it’s the closest the tour has come to me yet… about 7 months ago, another was scheduled that was closer… but it got cancelled a few days before it happened, much to my chagrin… so I’m not skipping *this* opportunity. I’m taking a half-day at work, and driving up for that evening. Sure, coming back so late will suck… but I think it will be worth it.

And I’m sure I’ll do another update when that comes up in a few weeks. Count on it.

Adjective Grudge Match… Hot vs. Beautiful

I’m almost scared that I’m not going to be making much sense this week… but here goes:

[deep breath]

I’m not that big on Hot women.

Oh, don’t get me wrong… I sure like looking at them. What red-blooded Heterosexual guy wouldn’t? I’m not repulsed by them… far from it. If given the opportunity and permission, I’d gladly pull up a chair, grab some popcorn and enjoy the view.

But when it comes to developing a crush, an interest, relationship, or just plain unrequited longing… I prefer having HIGHER standards, and prefer the Beautiful women.

Now, when I’m talking about Beautiful… you see I’m using an Upper-Case B there, right? I’ve talked about and made less-than-pleasant comments about “The Beautiful People”… but those are in a different context. Notice the quotation marks, and the presence of the word, “The”? “The Beautiful People” is a category… a clearly-defined demographic group, that looks more-or-less exactly like what the Media says is the definition of beauty… and since a large percentage of the world do not have the genetics to support that narrow range of Body Mass Index, or even have the model-quality symmetrical looks… it’s a category that’s pretty exclusive and elitist, if you ask me. The wording is only talking about the shell… only looking at the surface, and refers to nothing else. It pretty much HAS to refer to looks exclusively… because most of “The Beautiful People” have absolutely nothing underneath in terms of personality or heart. Saying someone is one of “The Beautiful People” is NOT a compliment, as far as I’m concerned…

Now most of “The Beautiful People” are Hot, as that’s another term that’s almost exclusively used to refer to the outward appearances.

Yet, not all Hot people are necessarily part of “The Beautiful People”… it’s easily possible to defy the common conventions of the Media-dictated idea of beautiful, and still be smoking Hot and Sexy. Watch enough Porn (pro and amateur) and you’ll see women that weren’t part of “The Beautiful People” crowd… but are still Smokin Hot and full of Sexual Sexiness.

(That is… from what I *hear*. Yeah, I heard. I’ve only seen…. Two? Yes, two! Actually one and a half… I was walking by someone’s dorm room in college and they had it on. And the first time I was barely paying attention. Seriously. Yes. That’s right. Stop looking at me like that… [insert non-challant whistle here])

Hot… with a capital H… *can* be, and is usually intended as, a compliment. Face it… it doesn’t matter you’re intelligence level, your breeding, your pride or whatever… it’s just that sometimes it’s a lot of fun to know you appeal solely to the baser, animalistic, Neanderthal instincts that involve the Hokey-Pokey. (After all… that *is* what it’s all about.) Other times, it can be a bit on the degrading side… because it can be interpreted that your looks and NOTHING ELSE ABOUT YOU is at all appealing. Kinda goes back to my “deep” blog entry… while it can be nice to feel attractive, you’d prefer to be more than just that.

So… “The Beautiful People” is an ironic insult.

Hot… is neutral (depending on what you’re going for, and how you interpret it at that time.)

With me so far? Good.

If you’re wondering where my disdain for “The Beautiful People” comes from… well, I think I can trace that back to Middle School. I can probably come close to pinpointing it, actually…

I wasn’t popular. In fact, I was considered to be the “shyest” in my class… and I was an easy target for bullies. And not all of them were male.

In 8th grade, one of these bullies was a girl… one of “The Beautiful People” and throughout High School would be considered one of the Hottest girls. I will admit… she was very physically attractive… everyone knew it, and I’m pretty darn sure she did too. And she acted like she had a crush on me. Yes, I say “acted”… and I know it was acting. How did I know? Simple. For one, the advances were a little “Too” strong… and to a late bloomer that was still just starting to discover the phenomenon known as “girls”… it was a bit off-putting, actually… and it made me suspicious.

Then… when it was still early on… she sat next to me in Science class… where the brunt of the abuse came. It was the first class of the day, so there were several minutes before the day actually started when it would be convenient to take pot shots at the chosen victim. And since it was science class… you didn’t have the regular desks like in other classrooms. They were the long black tables that several kids could sit around and do lab stuff… and by strange coincidence, most kids ended up at a table with ALL their other friends. (Go figure) I was at the table in the front, center… and I sat with ONE other kid (and not always) Anyway… this girl… (her initials were “CH”, so that’s how I’ll refer to her)… sat at the table directly to my right, the one against the wall, with her little clique of friends. She would venture over and “flirt” with me. (It’s in quotes because it wasn’t sincere flirting) This occasion, she came over and started talking to me… and was actually quite convincing. She asked me questions about myself… even though I didn’t say much (my shy reputation *was* deserved), and then at one point directly asked me if I wanted to go out sometime. I said, “uh.. yeah, sure.” She stared at me in the eyes… then immediately turned and walked to her friends, saying, “Oh my God, he believed me!” They all had a big hearty laugh, and I sank lower and lower in embarrassment.

Apparently, this joke was so funny to them, it was worth repeating. She’d make “advances”… would actually grab my ass (the old-fashioned “Goose”) when she walked by me, then look back at me and laugh with her friends. Personally, I never got the joke. The Goosing never went beyond that 8th grade year… but the gag did. All through high school, every now and then… I’d get it again. Even from her friends… “Hey, you *do* know CH has a crush on you, right? No, seriously!” (Really? Is that why she’s very publicly dating that football guy? Hell, one time HE even said that to me!) I’d find rare notes in my books in study hall, describing overly-pornographic things that she (and others) “wanted to do to me”. Yeah, right. I was short, weak, awkward and I knew I was an easy target… but did they *really* think I was that stupid? I wasn’t going to fall for it twice… under ANY circumstance. Which is pretty much why whenever a “Hot” girl made an advance (always on the “too strong” side)… I recognized it as a set-up and an insult. You know, it may be entirely possible that I actually passed up legitimate opportunities for love and relationships in high school because of that mistrust… (but honestly, I doubt it).

Now that it’s been about 15 years since graduating… I sincerely hope that CH went off and became a better person… one where the inside actually matched the outside. It would be depressing on a societal level if she and all those others were still complete bitches now.

But that’s pretty much where my contempt for “The Beautiful People” started (and why whenever I see folks that would fall in that category, I have the urge to use them for target practice...).

But then, there’s Beautiful… capital B… no “the”, no quotes.

While “The Beautiful People” and Hot really just refer to the direct appearance… Beautiful *can* be influenced by the personality. To me, that’s a word that can encompass more than just what’s on the outside. But it doesn’t have to… I can look at a woman and find her Beautiful without knowing about the personality. (and a Beautiful Woman can become *really* Ugly if the personality is crap) For purposes of this discussion… I’ll stick to the looks aspect.

Having said that… there IS a difference between Hot and Beautiful… and I prefer Beautiful.

Now, a woman can be Beautiful *and* Hot… both at the same time… or even exclusively, one at a time… Yet, she can also be Hot and *not* Beautiful… and Beautiful and not Hot.

Simple, right? (Sheesh, I feel like I should have a graph or something to help here…)

If you’re Hot… I’ll imagine having the Freaky-Deeky-Sexual-Sexy-Sex with you.

If you’re Beautiful… I’ll imagine waking up next to you afterwards and lazily cuddling under the covers in the morning light, and not getting up till the crack of noon.

Being Hot… is probably somewhat definable… because it does go more with the Media-dictated standards mentioned earlier. (But not always) As a general rule… wearing low-cut shirts helps (actual boob size doesn’t matter, believe it or not… and yes, I’m referring to women only. I have no idea what makes a man hot, otherwise I’d be trying harder).

Beautiful… that’s a bit more difficult, actually. Because there is no standard to it. I have no set “rules” for what makes someone Beautiful, physically. The only thing I can think of is that a Beautiful woman has a… “thing” about her. Some examples…

My first really huge Crush… the first girl I ever asked out (and subsequently rejected by) was this VERY attractive girl named Shannon. She remained in the “Very Attractive” category… until I saw her smile. THAT’S when she became certifiably Beautiful. I wouldn’t have called her Hot… because it didn’t seem like a high enough term… and she didn’t wear low-cut tops and wasn’t someone I wanted to just bone… I wanted to be in Love with her. Oddly enough, with me in the midst of puberty, thinking about Sex every 3.2 milliseconds, I don’t think I ever imagined her naked, or doing the nasty with her. All I thought about was that smile, her laugh and very sweet personality. Till that point in my life, she had to be the most Beautiful girl I’d ever seen… once I saw that smile. (Ever since, whenever I wrote a play or story that had an unrequited love… I named that crush Shannon. It became symbolic for me)

In Grad School… there was a young lady I’d see walking around campus. Part of the “punk rock” crowd. She wore big, bulky clothes, combat boots, all that stuff. And this gal had her head completely shaved. Now, she probably did it to rebel against the “normal conventions” of beauty and what is considered “attractive”… I’ve known a lot of people to intentionally try to uglify themselves for that reason. The only hitch with her… she was Breathtakingly Beautiful… WITH the shaved head. Maybe her head was just the right shape or whatever… but on her… and only on her… the shaved head made her look absolutely Beautiful. No idea what she’d look like *with* hair… but I like to think it wouldn’t give or take away anything from her. So maybe that means she was Beautiful *despite* the no-hair…

When I lived in Los Angeles, and the first year I worked with a children’s theatre group… there was another of the teachers (or “Big Kids” as we were called) that I had me a bit of a crush on. She wore the long flowing skirts with a full t-shirt… not showing anything for skin, except for her arms, really. She also wore these cat’s-eye style glasses… and I looked at her and thought she was absolutely Beautiful. As much as I was having a lot of fun there anyway… I looked forward to seeing her everyday. Plus, she was great with the kids, and she was very friendly and sweet. I figured, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least TRY to ask her out. So, I did. She actually agreed… but I don’t think she was looking at it as a “date”… just a friend-thing. The first night we went out… she actually took me (and two other guys) to a small party at another friend of hers. Yeah… didn’t get much of a chance for one-on-one time with her. But when I saw her dressed up for this evening of socializing… she was showing some cleavage… her skirt was shorter, she put in contacts… admittedly, she was like the librarian that lets down the hair, unbuttons the blouse and is instantly Hot. No doubt… she was *extremely* Hot…

But personally… I preferred the Beautiful.

We did go out again… this time just her and I. She didn’t dress “hot”… and she looked Beautiful. I took her to dinner and we saw a movie… the standard date-date. I thought we had a really good time… she introduced me to the concept of smoothies with “boba” in it (which, actually I haven’t had since… it was kinda weird) and I figured I was doing okay with laying the nice foundations for something better in the future. That’s basically my reasoning for not trying to kiss on first dates… its too bad that never actually works. Yeah, I actually never saw her again after that night… no returned calls or e-mails. Guess she got the realization I was interested in “that way”… and she wasn’t. Last I heard, which was about a year after that… she had flown to Iraq to be a War Correspondent. (????... yikes! Guess she was a roaming soul…)

For a more pop-culture example everyone can witness… Ashlee Simpson. Yes, the younger sister of Jessica Simpson (man, there’s a name I hoped I’d never be mentioning on here)… I thought she was absolutely Beautiful… much more so then Jessica. Jessica just has that Barbie-Doll-just-out-of-the-clone-vat look to her… that is just SO unappealing to me. Seriously… it actually disgusts me. (Plus, the complete airhead part is a total dealbreaker… I can’t even have porno fantasies with her in them. I just can’t.) Ashlee… I thought was Beautiful… until she had her nose job. Then it got smoothed out, looks more like the rest of Young, Hot Hollywood… and became a complete clone… just like her sister. Her non-perfect nose is what MADE her Beautiful… and she threw it away with an outpatient surgery.

When I look at some women… and I’ll remark to a male friend that’s accompanying me of how Beautiful I think that woman is… sometimes, they’ll very much disagree with me. “What? You think *she’s* Beautiful? Are you kidding? There are MUCH hotter women around here!” They won’t think she’s Beautiful because she’s got no boobs, is too tall, too short, has too big a nose, too small a nose, her hair is too short, too many piercings and tattoos, too exotic, not exotic enough, covered in freckles, or any of 100 other reasons.

But those are the EXACT reasons why I think that particular woman is Beautiful. Sometimes, it’s the little “faults” that make someone Beautiful.

Guess it’s just a personal taste… and maybe my tastes are a bit on the different side, but I never thought so.

Sure, it’s nice to be thought of as Hot from time to time… but I think its overall better to be seen as Beautiful by someone. I certainly would rather BE with someone that thought of me that way… and I’d rather be with someone that I find to be Beautiful.

All the women that I’ve been with… or had big crushes on, or asked out, or made a pass at, and had serious romantic interests for… I saw them as being definitively Beautiful. (Even the psycho one from 10 years ago. Physically Beautiful… just a bit nuts.) I wouldn’t even want to kiss you if I didn’t think you were Beautiful. (Not to mention the several I didn’t kiss that I thought were Beautiful) And if I get e-mails from any past crushes, relationships… or gals that I missed opportunities with, asking, “Really? Even me?”

The answer is a resounding Yes.

And I think it’s a tragedy unto itself that they even have to *ask* that.