The Less-Than-Helpful Votes for My Hotness

It may be flattering, but it’s not particularly helpful that several blog buddies (Jay, then Richard, and a good while earlier Allan) have deemed me a hottie. Flattering because, well, duh; [insert ego-balancing self-effacing remark here]. Not helpful because these blog buddies are all, to the best of my knowledge, straight and male.

Commenting on this in a chat, a friend said I should be more open-minded. I may have to be, since my apparent hotness seems to only carry cred with bloggers and the sort of college girls who have a decided, perhaps preconceived and strategically unified, absence from my campus. They know they can’t resist my “pouty, but too serious” (same friend) charms, so they stay on fancy liberal arts campuses, cloistering themselves in with endless dull deconstructionist readings of whatever that their aging ’67 radlib professors assign them in bales, looking up from their highlighters pulled from Kate Spade bags just long enough to let out a small sigh of longing, thinking verboten thoughts of al3x before moving on to the next turgid, self-indulgent paragraph.

It’s a great world, here in my head.