How Attractive Am I? What would you rate me out of 10?
Words by Michelle Andrews.
SISTER: “Ugh, my worst nightmare is being rated a 7”
ME: “That makes no sense, what about a rating below 7?”
SISTER: “Well because a 7 is realistic enough to be offensive. Like if someone rated me a 6, I’d just assume they were a blind idiot and disregard their opinion. If they rated me a 7 it would be believable enough to mean that I actually look kinda average”
ME: “Yeah I get you…”
I’m sure the majority of people on our train were listening to this conversation with a buzzing curiosity. We were getting plenty of sideways glances from surrounding strangers, probably so they could form their own judgments on our attractiveness, and decide what number they’d rate us themselves.
“… well the sheer thought of anyone giving me a rating makes me want to vomit” I replied.
For two girls who had spent the previous night’s trip to the local Thai restaurant rating random men 4s out of 10, we were being pretty hypocritical. I mean, my friends and I rate men based on their attractiveness all the time. About as many times we say ‘like’ in a sentence. We rate people, like, a lot.
For instance, my best friend’s 21st that weekend will go down in history as the party with the “13/10” DJ.
By the time speeches had wrapped up, saying the number 13 was enough for every girl at the party to know exactly whose biceps were the topic of conversation. Statements like “I would let 13 bend me over that DJ table right here, right now” were vocalised a little too loudly (let’s all blame the Moscato) on multiple occasions. Weird sideways glances on 13’s behalf ensued. Drunken giggles from his tens of drunken girl-fans (OMG DID HE JUST HEAR US?!111!!!) followed.
At one point I actually saw one drunken girl-fan request a photo with 13, as if he was a wax figure in a museum, or the hot Jonas brother.
***Side-note: Girls, please refrain from getting photos with the attractive men you encounter in everyday life. Despite appearances, they are people, not alien creatures, and you asking for a photo with them is not appropriate social behaviour unless they actually are Nick Jonas or in fact a waxy non-human version of Nick Jonas.
Anyway, 13 isn’t ever going to date you if you start hyperventilating and acting like a weird hard-core fan girl (he probably won’t like you if you right blog posts about him, either, but… YOLO).
Yes, he’s awe-inspiring and shiny, but remember to breathe deeply and not completely lose your shit. Treat all attractive men like the sun, and try to not stare directly at them. Keep it together woman, distract yourself by trying to recite your 8 times tables or something (if you get past 6 x 8 consider yourself my hero).
The trick is to not let a 10/10 know he’s a 10. I mean, 10s already witness girl’s ovaries exploding at the sight of their biceps on a daily basis, they don’t need you being all gushy and blowing their ego up to the size of Kanye West’s. You getting all breathy will only result in the creation of a cocky man-beast who will start carrying ovary-clean-up-kits at all times because he’ll think it’s a necessity. Lock those ovaries down. Be a smart girl and make him think he’s just another 7.
After all, there’s nothing worse than a guy who’s got the looks of a 10 but has the arrogant personality of a 2.
For those of us who are not 10s, actually finding out what people rate your attractiveness can be traumatic.
When I was 18, I naively defended a stranger on Facebook who was told by a trolling group, FaceBeef, to “become anorexic” in order to “lose that extra weight” (yes, I made the very wise decision to argue with a troll group, because I is smart). FaceBeef’s response was to post a tagged photo of me to their page (which had in excess of twenty thousand followers) with the caption “Rate this loud mouth bitch out of 10 to teach her a lesson”.
What followed was hundreds of men rating me, critiquing me, scrutinising my every flaw on a very public platform. I had men offer a variety of opinions, ranging from “9/10 would bang” to “2/10, eyes too close together, looks like she’d have chlamydia, would not touch with a 10 ft pole” (OOOH BUUUUUURRRRRRNNNNNN). Within hours, I had received threats from a man saying he was going to come to my University, find me, and then rape me.
The photo and its comments were not taken down for 48 hours. For the months following, I had the most horrific observations about my appearance burnt into my mind.
I walked away from the experience wondering: what does my appearance say about me?
The conversation I had on the train got me thinking: what rating would I be satisfied with once my nausea and potential bouts of vomiting subsided?
Well maybe the question is irrelevant in the first place. Who cares what my ‘rating’ is?
Of course I know that in posting this and in you, my lovely little reader friend, reading it, i’m opening myself up to be rated by an alarmingly high number of people. I guess at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter all that much what rating you give me. I know that there will be a million girls out there who are far more attractive than myself.
That’s exactly why I want to bring something else to the table, and in doing so, offer the world so much more than just my appearance. I guess that’s what this blog has been about all along…