Buzz. My phone lit up (almost as bright as my smile) beside my desk and it was him–Lance–the perfectly sculpted model (yes, you read that right) that introduced himself to me on the subway a week ago. I snatched my phone up from my desk, anxious to see what the text said and I agonized over the perfect phrase to respond with.
I was still on cloud nine from my first interaction with Lance. It was after 1 a.m. in Harlem and I was headed home to Brooklyn from a friend’s house. I stood impatiently waiting on the platform and was delighted when the A train slowed down to scoop me up. My delight turned into pure glee when I saw Lance’s luminous smirk as I walked on the train.
“Hi,” he parted his lips as soon as I stepped into the light of the train.
I immediately turned around to make sure no one was behind me because this breathtaking hunk of man could not have been talking to me! I don’t have low self esteem, but I didn’t recognize myself as the type of girl a man like that would be speaking to. I labeled him drunk in my mind as I smiled back and in my charming Southern drawl, let out a (faux) confident, “How are you?”
His smile never faded as he asked me about my night, why I cut my hair and complimented my smile, my accent and my legs. Each compliment raised my confidence and my interest in this gorgeous man and eventually I left the seat I chose across from him and ended up seated right beside him.
The entire time, I’m thinking, “I cannot mess up this opportunity. This model of a man is into me!”
I felt like I was in a movie. I effortlessly held on to Lance’s attention as he told me about his love for his mother, his appreciation of fitness and health (and trust me, it was obvious) and is desire to build a brand around himself. All the while a group of young black women stared at us, obviously hating on the fact that someone like Lance was giving me his undivided attention. They laughed and whispered to each other, while giving Lance flirty glances and me…filthy ones.
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He noticed our audience and said, “Let’s give them something to really look at.” Lance snuggled closer to me and put his arm around me. He then whispered in my ear, “This is actually much better for me.” I completely melted. I felt like every moment of my life that I’ve ever felt unpretty was erased with Lance’s affections. The gaggle of girls were completely gagging. They couldn’t stand that Lance wasn’t affected by them, only getting closer to me.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t realize it before this moment, but Lance is better looking than me. His chiseled good looks and masterpiece of a body gave me a confidence boost, but I can’t lie–I knew that this man was out of my league.
I’ve got two years to go until I reach 30 and on that journey, I’m attempting to collect more self-confidence. Could Lance have been hand-delivered by God himself to order my steps down said path? I accepted this challenge and am excited to see where it leads me.
I read this article about women preferring to date men that are less physically attractive than they are and it resonated with me. Here I am, certifiably overweight, but I’m just like that Missy Elliott lyric, “I’ve got a cute face, chubby waist, thick legs in shape, rump shaking both ways, make you do a double take.” But attempting to date someone like Lance has given me a complex.
If I’m not obsessing over who else is bathing in the beauty of Lance’s light, I’m wondering why it’s taking him so long to reply to my texts or what the real reason is that we can’t go for dinner Friday night.
I’m constantly thinking of the unlimited number of women that fawn over him and wonder how many he’s actually seeing. I know attractive men have their pick of the litter, but Lance chose me. Who’s to say he hasn’t chosen more than just me? I could only hope as much, but I’m realistic. A man this fine has endless options and I’d be stupid to think he’s not weighing those options.
Women are willing to forgive and forget many things just because a man looks good enough to eat. This isn’t a shocking revelation. I’ve lived through this and have sat through many a chats with my girls about some good-for-nothing dude they’re seeing that’s so fine they don’t care how trifling he is or the sex is so good, they’re blinded. Lance’s looks are just that…blinding.
Lance reassures me that he’s attracted to me by complimenting me and offering me his friendship (something people forget should be at the center of the start of any relationship). As a grown woman, I am trying to hold on to these positive reinforcements, but each and every time I see that devastatingly handsome face, my mind reels with uncertainty. And basically F’s up my confidence instead of increasing it. I don’t want to lose Lance based on my own insecurities, but I’m just uncertain as to how I can continue feeling so conflicted in seeing him.
The uncertainty creates a nagging question–is it worth it for me to date someone better looking than me?
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