Before I begin, allow me to check my privilege so you don’t have to: I am a hot woman. I modeled when I was in college (still do sometimes) and just last week, a woman on the street told me how sexy I looked. I’m so hot that I don’t even know the price of drinks. I am one lucky bitch.
Now, with that out of the way, after double-checking to make sure it wasn’t an Onion article, I asked an ugly friend to read to me this New York Post story published last week called “Why I Won’t Date Hot Women,” because I’m so hot that I can’t even read. (The ugly friend is also typing this because I’m so hot, I can’t spell).
In case you missed it, the story profiles Dan Rochkind, a wealthy 40-year old New Yorker who decided he was above dating attractive people. I won’t go into the details of the article—you can get the gist of it here—but the story perpetuates a terrible stigma all hot people face: that is, that attractive people are undateable. One choice quote: “Beautiful women who get a fair amount of attention get full of themselves. Eventually, I was dreading getting dinner with them because they couldn’t carry a conversation.” As my hot friend (and author!) Dana Schwartz sums up, “Mainstream media is finally portraying pretty women as shallow and vain!”
First, let’s deal with Rochkind’s definition of hot. He says he’s dated “20-something blondes,” which leaves out 20 or 30-something brunettes, red heads and almost all women of color. So, does this mean Kylie Jenner, Emma Stone, lupita Nyong'o and Mila Kunis are just average-looking? Ridiculous.
Hotness is a spectrum. “Hot” means different things to different people. Someone I find hot might not be to someone else and vice versa. A guy I used to date used to tell me, “How come you always look so hot?”. Two weeks later, I had a meeting with someone who said I looked like Anne Frank. There are loads of people on the internet (and probably at my gym) that think I’m an ugly, fat, unfunny cunt. There are certainly days when I feel hot as fuck, like right after some great sex or getting my hair done. And then other days I put on sunglasses (sweatpants for the face, as I call them) and a hoodie and eat a lot of gluten on my couch. Hotness is hard to define, but I guess we can now thank Dan Rochkind for finally defining it for us, once and for all: 20-year-old blondes.
I don’t know when it started, but at some point our society decided that if a woman, now determined to only be a blonde, is hot, she must have a boyfriend. If she doesn’t, something is wrong with her. We’re told “all the hot ones are taken” and all the singles ones have issues. Possible explanations include “she’s too vapid,” “she can’t hold a conversation” and “she’s like, too pretty.” In other words, if a hot girl can’t find a boyfriend, it’s because she’s too psycho to keep one. Of course, no one ever considers that perhaps she just doesn’t want to date anyone. Or has it ever occurred to anyone that because most people assume us hot women to be either stupid or taken, we actually don’t get asked out as much as one would think?
A friend of mine, a 32-year-old model-actress who asked to remain anonymous—but trust me, you’ve seen her some movies and might have even jerked off to a picture of her—tells me, “When men see a woman that looks like a model, many of them see her as an object. I can only partially blame them for this, since our culture hammers it into our heads with objectifying ads and porn. Hence, these men see ‘hot girls’ as something to possess and brag about. They don’t really spend a lot of time trying to get to know her as a person, because for many men, beauty is enough.”
I’m not whining that hot people have it harder when it comes to dating; that’d be obnoxious. Complaining you have a rough life because people only want to date you to bone you sounds like a bad caption from a pouty Instagram model. But dating can actually be a lot harder for us. In 2015, OkCupid revealed that people who post the most beautiful profile pictures on the dating site are actually less likely to receive messages than people with more-average looks.
I’m not surprised by Dan Rochkind’s mentality: it’s not uncommon that when people only want sex, they don’t invest in your personality. And across the board, it’s still a “shocking surprise” when a hot girl talks about something other than herself or the weather. (Megyn Kelly, anyone? How about Amal Clooney?) Unfortunately, all the intelligent and beautiful women out there are just stuck fighting this stigma the New York Post found so necessary to promote. In the end, everyone’s forming theories and hypotheses, but no one has the damn balls to test them out.
I know this sounds like some angry privileged feminist rant against men—but it’s not. It’s a call for society in general to just do better. The article ends with Rochkind saying, “There’s something to be said about sowing your wild oats and getting them out of your system.” After calling hot people vapid idiots, I can promise you they won’t be around to get anything in or out of your system. Because, Dan, and guys like Dan: your system is shit, and an entire country of hot women know it.