All that glitters is not gold.
Pic via Wikipedia.org
I. What’s the Price of Beauty?
The other night while browsing the produce aisle, I overheard a familiar tune playing in the background:
“Pretty woman stop awhile
Pretty woman talk awhile
Pretty woman give your smile to me”
I chuckled while briefly flashing back to the classic film, Pretty Woman. And as is usually the case when revisiting anything before my third eye, within my third ear I overheard my inner-philosopher mumbling.
The more intently I listened, the more the following dawned on me: if the Yin vomited out the Yang . . . if the greater the sinner, the greater the saint . . . if comedians learn to tell jokes from sorrow, well, then — what serves as the dark side of the moon to dating a pretty woman?
Sure enough, I sensed a story brewing. Only, in this instance, I wouldn’t have to write it so much as would I have to remember it.
Here’s what I came away with.
II. Real-Life Dangerous Experiences Due to Dating a Pretty Woman
(Strange men randomly follow a Pretty Woman home.) Pic via pxhere.com
Because beauty lives in the eye of the beholder, what one man calls pretty, another man calls pretty . . . ugly. Fair enough! For this reason, because “the beginning of wisdom,” said Socrates, “is the definition of terms,” I’ll define what I mean by a Pretty Woman.
By the proper noun “Pretty Woman,” I mean — any female who attracts an excessive amount of attention in a given environment.
The power words are “attracts” and “excessive amount of attention.”
For this article, I didn’t need research . . . I didn’t need books. After all, Experience — that hard teacher which gives tests before study guides — has taught me all I need to know about the dangers of dating a Pretty Woman.
“A beautiful woman is kinda like a celebrity,” 50 Cent once said. “In the club, she gets all the attention.”
I once had a girlfriend who attracted such an excessive amount of attention that a strange guy literally followed us from the restaurant in China Town. The experience was surreal.
On the subway, he sat across from us. He watched her every move, even tilted his head to the side. The man had love at first sight in his eyes.
“Hey,” he finally blurted after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. “I’m a celebrity photographer,” he blatantly lied while locking eyes with me. “Your girlfriend is gorgeous. I’d love to shoot her.”
Now mind you, at the time we lived about 5 minutes from The Dakota, the infamous apartment building where a stalker shot and killed John Lennon.
When we got off the subway several stops earlier than our actual stop, the Stranger Danger got off the subway, too. He trailed behind us. Thankfully the instant we set foot out of the terminal, I spotted a yellow cab. We hopped in and sped off into the night.
I gulped. We were in danger.
Back in college, I literally came to blows with a football player.
The Pretty Woman on my arm was the love of his life. He, therefore, picked a fight with me!
Spurred by liquor courage, the football player one night at a party cornered the Pretty Woman. “What this fool got that I ain’t got?” he shouted at her. She looked over at me.
I gulped. We were in danger.
I’ve been involved with a Pretty Woman of various colors and heights. And in every such instance, the following seems to be a recurring theme.
“Hey, your homeboy tried to come on to me at Draya’s party,” a Pretty Woman once griped. “I don’t know if he was drunk or what?”
“Your buddy always stares at me.”
“Your friend asked would I study with him.”
“Your cousin offered to fix my laptop but said he needed my phone number so we could discuss the details.”
Dating a Pretty Woman is akin to knowingly swimming in shark-infested waters. From daily having to hear the Pretty Woman rightfully complain of being “cat-called” to “honked at,” to say nothing of bosses and co-workers hitting on her, it’s risky business indeed!
“Babe, at Whole Foods some creepy old man followed me around the store,” a Pretty Woman once said. “After the creepy guy approached me several times, I had to tell the security guard. He protected me, and then asked for my number.”
C’est la vie.
IV. In Closing
(My mother posing on her birthday a few months ago.)
I once heard someone say “boys attract girls most like their mothers, and girls attract boys most like their fathers.” If that be the case, then, no wonder for most of my life I’ve attracted the “Pretty Woman” into my experience.
Mama, who once modeled, used to complain bitterly about “excessive attention.” Sure enough, given that Mama and Beyoncé hail from the same neighborhood, I’m sure when she reads this she’ll appreciate why Beyoncé once sang, “Pretty . . . hurts.”
Perhaps Mama and Beyoncé were both grappling with the following insight:
Each man dreams of that lovely embrace from the mermaid with a beautiful face, freed of her dragon’s monstrous tail. But life, you see, doesn’t work that way!
It appears — the greater the asset, the greater the liability. This is known as the universal Law of Compensation.
In other words, the grass may appear greener due to a Pretty Woman’s capacity to attract excessive attention, but — until you’ve crossed that fence and actually experienced life on that lawn — it would be wise to pause for reflection.
In short, from having endured a stalker following us from China Town to having fist-fights and countless other instances, which I care not put ink to, I’m compelled to conclude:
Dating a Pretty Woman is dangerous!