A few weeks ago, my roommate Jake and I decided we needed a competition. Now, this was not to be just any kind of competition involving intellect or brute strength. We did not involve ourselves in any kind of physical challenges or battle of wits. Ours was a challenge to be judged by not only our peers but by America herself. A quest to reach over the boundaries of culture, race, and society and really show people who we truly were in 250 words or less and an accompanying photograph (in .jpg format).
That’s right, folks. We signed up for HotOrNot.com.
This was to determine, indisputably, who between us was hotter, and on a scale of 1 to 10, which appropriate measure of hotness we each were to be attributed. We had done it. We had thrown our heaving, sweaty, sexy, nubile young bodies into the ring to duke it out, roll with the punches, hit below the belt, and many other boxing metaphors, all of which would determine once and for all: how shallow and superficial can we get in order to win the votes (and hearts) of our peers?
Thus, the planning and preparation stage had begun. We searched through our computers and photo albums for pictures that conveniently hid our flaws in such a way that made us look irrefutably sexy to the untrained eye. So, I looked through my small collection of pictures and narrowed it down to only the most adorable and cutest of possibilities. Okay, so here’s a picture of me with my high school diploma. Too educated! Here is one of me in the harbor. Too preppy! Here is one of me with a Hooter’s waitress. Too drunk! What was I going to do? I didn’t have any pictures to post on the website! I was never going to win now! I took a few deep breaths and realized that I had a secret weapon. I had a digital camera at my disposal I could pose in any way I wanted and take as many pictures as I needed until I found the most ultimately sexified picture known to man. But how should I pose? Should I pose holding my guitar? Would that look too cocky? How about with my shirt off? Would that look too desperate? How about holding my guitar and with my shirt off? No, no no, I’m going the wrong way with this. I’ve got it! Humor, I’ll use humor! I must relate to my peers with my wonderful sense of humor! So, I took a box of Easy Mac and held it under my arm and glared at the camera passionately. The microwave-friendly meal advertised in my arms would set them off and evoke laughter. “Look at this guy,” a scantily-clad, busty blonde will say to her equally scantily-clad, busty brunette roommate. “He’s holding a box of Easy Mac. That is so funny and adorable. I’m going to give him a 10.” My smile (disarming, yet sensual) would warm the hearts of these would-be raters and excite lust within their souls. Their index fingers will tremble slightly as they try to suppress their innermost desires and slide the mouse up to click 10, only to wish that somehow they could click 11, the only truly fair score that I could receive. So, I chose this picture and uploaded it, mentally rehearsing what I would say when presented with the “Hottest of HotOrNot.com” award.
After posting our “picz” we decided that to fully understand what we were up against, we must steep ourselves in HotOrNot.com lore, fully understand the difference between “hot” and its dreaded antithesis “not” and become masters in the advanced social science of HotOrNot-ism.
A few hours after the official commencement of the battle of the ages, we had already sunk to the level of gossiping teenage girls. “Look at this one,” I’d exclaim, “she thinks it’s called FATornot.com” and we would laugh in our inane, phony way for a while, then we would begin to discuss last night’s episode of the O.C.
I can’t believe it happened! We used to be so understanding! There was not a prejudiced bone in our bodies! We loved people of all shapes and sizes; that was just the way God made them! We respected diversity! Valued change! Cherished queers! Tolerated women! Now we were prancing around making judgments about people we had never met. We could only see the black and white of things, the “hot” and the “not”. We had rules to follow, which we had created ourselves. Like, if the young woman (ages 18-25) has drawn on the picture, that immediately loses points. If she has taken a picture of herself with another dude, we jealously lowered her rating. If her picture focuses solely on her rack, and she is otherwise an averagely plain-looking lady, her score is lowered, regardless of the quality apparent in the rack.
I started out at a respectable 8, and for a few days I kept up this momentum. But then the internet gods plagued me with incessant ratings of 1 and 2, and my score plummeted to a measly 5. That’s right, I was now neither hot or not, I was merely room temperature. The people of this country had told me exactly what they thought of me. “America!” I screamed, “Why you be playin’ me like this? What did I ever do to mistreat you, baby? I never did you no wrong. I gave you yours, America,” tears started rolling down my cheek, and I sobbed, “Now I just want…to get what’s mine!” as I pumped my fist to the sky. My hopes and dreams were shattered. To make matters worse, Jake proudly claimed that he had reached the rating of 9.4. My life officially ended.
I started to wonder about the validity of this competition. I mean, how can peoples’ biased opinions rally rate my degree of hotness? They don’t know me; maybe I am just not photogenic. Yeah, that’s right, I’m just not photogenic. I adopted this as my mantra for a few days, because, seriously, I figured Jake had at least hooked up with one girl in the course of his life, and I had hooked up with almost twice that many! I should be the one with the motherfucking 9.4!
I took a few deep breaths and realized that I had to reassess my plan of battle. I needed something new, something with power, something that will grab peoples’ attention and bend them to my will.
I needed to take another picture. Obviously humor was not working. So, I decided, I would need to find another tactic. A scheme that would be foolproof, something that would break through to any female and give me some of those sweet, sweet 10’s. Like a junkie craves heroin, I craved that sweet release when somebody across this great country would kindly click a 10 when they came across my picture.
I pondered what would best allow me to relate to women and win their precious ratings. What do women like? I did some research on the internet, but “long, hard cock” was not something I could supply on this occasion, so I thought back to a conversation I had had with one of the three females I had ever spoken to in my life. Yes! That’s it! Women love cute, furry, animals! I immediately googled “cute kittens” and took another picture of myself with my arm outstretched and then Photoshopped a picture of the cutest kitten in the world right onto my open palm, so it looks like the kitten is just sitting there tamely. I’m making a face that says “Oh, look at this most adorable kitten: so innocent, so pure. Won’t you give me a 10?” The kitten is just sitting there in my palm looking so damn adorable and all, so I felt really good about this whole thing.
So the competition continues without a winner. We are in it for the long haul though, because nothing sums you up as a person quite like HotOrNot.com. Although I have given up most hope of ever achieving a 9.4, I can still have pride in the fact that I did eventually climb the ratings to a respectable 7.1, which is hotter than 68% of men in my age group. Yes, I have probably lost the competition with Jake and my honor is forfeit, but I believe I have learned a lesson through this ordeal. That lesson is: the internet can be a cold mistress, but she speaks the truth, so get used to it. I am proud of my 7.1. So ladies, here I come, and boy am I lukewarm!