Photo by Houcine Ncib on Unsplash
On my rec tennis team that I joined after finishing college and getting a job out here in LA, one of our players was definitely one of the most beautiful women on the planet.
Her name was Charlotte. She was mixed race, caramel skinned, and used to model.
Do you know that she actually did some modeling for?wait for it?Victoria?s Secret. Yeah, she was that kind of beautiful.
Now she worked for Facebook in sales. I have a feeling she was pretty damn good at sales. Who wouldn?t buy anything from a woman that looked like that?
She also had the kind of legs that looked fucking sexy in a tennis skirt. She made the rest of us gals, all of us good solid 7s and 8s, compared to her 10, look like plain Janes.
The first thing I realized about Charlotte was that every single man without fail that she met wanted to date her.
That?s just weird. How can you find your soulmate if every single person wants you? It?s been my experience that a certain magic comes from the uncertainty of whether the person you desire desires you back.
I know it?s hard to believe, but every single person on planet earth wanted to date Charlotte. Male and female.
We would go to matches, and the other team?s guys and girls (it was a co-ed league) would inevitably ask me about Charlotte.
?Is she single? Is she married? Is she dating anyone??
That?s just rude.
Asking a woman you?ve just met if the super hot teammate is single or available or whatever.
?I have no idea,? I would answer. And I would fume. I was single. Some of those guys we ran into at the matches were cute. But their reaction to Charlotte was a major turn off to me.
I ended up being a little resentful of her, it?s true. But the weird thing was, she was really attached to me. I was a slightly better player. We were doubles partners a lot and she was always looking to me for approval about the way she played.
She was insecure.
Fucking hell. That hit me like a ton of bricks. I guess I always thought if I had those looks I would?I don?t know, live happily ever after. I didn?t know much, but from the look on Charlotte?s face a lot of the time, she wasn?t living happily ever after.
One night after tennis we went out to Chili?s for dinner and we had some margaritas and I ended up just blurting it out.
?Is it hard to be an incredibly beautiful woman??
She looked at me kind of angrily. I realized then. She thought for a second I was coming onto her, like the rest of the world always did. And it wearied her. Then she realized I wasn?t.
She stared at me.
A tear came out of her eye.
She let it all out then. She gave me the secret knowledge. It was, just as I imagined, very hard for Charlotte. She felt incredibly lonely. She felt that everybody wanted a piece of her. She felt like a beautiful fillet mignon ? a piece of meat.
And she knew it would one day pass.
?I know?in a few years it won?t matter?and I?ll be free.?
But in the mean time, she was imprisoned by her beauty. That?s what she said to me.
?I feel like I?m trapped in a glass box. Everybody can see in, and I can see out. But I can?t?touch anything and nothing can touch me.?
By the time she got around to saying that there were tracks of tears down both her cheeks. The waiter came around to see if we wanted anything, then he ran away when he saw the look on her face.
She was enraged.
?I hate it,? she said. ?I just want to be ordinary.?
I realized then, the way she dressed. It was always drab and never exposed any flesh. It was only in the tennis outfits that we got to see that incredible body. She never wore a smidgen of makeup. And her hair was very unstyled. It was just ? hair. But it didn?t matter. it was her smoldering eyes. Her cheekbones. Her thick lips. It was her..beauty.
There was a guy she was ?involved with?, she confided in me that night. He was some sort of billionaire. He would send helicopters and private jets to fly her up to silicon valley.
Of course, who else would she date?
But they weren?t happy. He only gave her a tiny bit of his life, because he was totally absorbed with his business for most of the time.
?We?re together for an hour,? she said. ?He wants to fuck and then he flies me back to LA. It fucking sucks.?
That did sound kind of shitty. But hell, if I was her, I get it. I guess I?d pick the hot shot billionaire too. If you had everybody to choose from wouldn?t you pick the one at the top of the so-called heap?
?I?m calling it off,? she said.
?You should,? I said. ?You deserve more than an hour.?
?Introduce me to someone then,? she said.
I almost spit up my margarita. But she was sincere. She was having trouble meeting a regular normal person. I told her I would try.
A few weeks later I had a few people over, one of whom was this super sweet guy Robin who I dated for like a minute, but we didn?t really?well, connect, sexually. He was handsome, but a little awkward. What can I say? He was sweet. But I really needed someone with a bit more of a take charge attitude I guess. But something told me? a hesitant, sweet, passive type. That might be just the ticket for Charlotte.
My friend Robin was so grateful to me. I swear, he sent me gift cards and presents almost every month when they started dating. He couldn?t believe he was able to land a fish like Charlotte. He gave me all the credit.
They got married after about a year. I wasn?t in the wedding party, I didn?t know Charlotte that well. She had college friends and stuff. But she did single me out in a bunch of speeches and made me feel real included. And so did Robin.
Facebook promoted her and she had to move up north, and I lost touch with Charlotte and Robin. But I?ve heard they are still together. I remember one of the last time I saw her. It was after our tennis match she took me aside and told me how happy she was.
?With Robin I just feel like a normal couple,? she said. ?I?m so glad you hooked us up. Robin shattered the glass box and he touched me. I can feel him. And he can feel me.?
I looked at her eye. There was that one tear again.
She was still struggling with her backhand. And struggling with life, as are we all. So, you know what? In the end I have to conclude, it is hard being beautiful beyond belief. But it?s hard being alive anyway.
We all have a cross to bear. If you had to choose one, being hot beyond all belief is probably, at the end of the day, not as bad as some of the others. But don?t be too jealous of the super hotties ? they?re humans just like me and you.
Here?s something mildly amusing that I dreamt up:
