If you look like a menacing sexual predator, the odds of me taking you seriously as a human being decrease exponentially. This is not so much a reflection of my shallowness as it is a reflection of human nature. We tend to have a natural aversion to those things which appear liable to eat us and our babies. Hence, bunnies are cute, cockroaches are ugly, and people who look like menacing sexual predators are deplored. As such, should you have the misfortune of resembling a menacing sexual predator, it’s in your best interest to work against the grain of nature and try to look like less of a creep. This would include such efforts as bathing regularly, not growing a pedostache or unbuttoning the top few buttons of your shirt so that your chest carpet billows out, and not drawing negative attention to yourself by acting like a douche. Cussing out the only foreigners on a subway car while your chest hair meets your neck and the glisten off your pedostache is hardly noticeable under the glimmer of your comb over, is probably not a good start to this journey.
It was probably a Tuesday. Shanna (who missed that day of kindergarten where we learn to use our “indoor voices”) and I were on the subway to somewhere. Probably in search of food. Something or other was being discussed. It was probably about me, and I was more than likely doing most of the talking. A fellow to our left was carrying on a terribly loud phone conversation. He was significantly louder than either of us, though I didn’t particularly mind. Maybe it was important. Or maybe he, like Shanna, missed the lesson on indoor voices. No matter. There were more important things to worry about on the subway car that evening.
A particularly creepy looking man of the “I like ‘em young… real young” persuasion was sitting down the bench from us. Choosing to ignore the loudest man on the train, Surefire Pedophile looked down our way and made a shushing gesture. “Subway! Voices! Shhh!” he advised us, in that creepy my-voice-is-raw-and-I-could-sure-use-some-baby-blood-to-soothe-it voice of his. He then repeated his shushing gesture for good measure, just in case we had failed to catch it the first time. Immediately threatened by his disheveled appearance, this did not sit well with us. And by us, I mean me. Shanna began speaking a touch louder, as I debated what this guy hated more: foreigners, the English language, or women. Surely there had to be some reason for his shushing us but not the louder man, and what fun is it if I don’t assume the absolute worst? I settled on the belief that it was all three: he was clearly a racist, xenophobic misogynist.
Sadly, this trichotomy of Absolute Sex is not found as a preference on most dating sites; further evidence that all the good ones are taken.
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