I have an unnatural obsession with beautiful people. Gender is not important; a beautiful person is living art, and should be recognized as such. Hence my infatuation with not only Scarlett Johansson and Halle Berry, but Taylor Lautner and Bradley Cooper. I follow their fashion choices and cosmetic forays with an insatiable fervor, not to mention they're media exploits. However, much like impressionist art, beautiful people are best appreciated from afar, for the closer one gets the more numerous the problems with the concept become.
In the case of impressionist art, one can employ the adage, "good from afar but far from good." An up close investigation of Renoir's Le Moulin de la Gallette would reveal seemingly frozen waves of paint cracking with age, adopting no specific feature of the scene they compose. One consequently loses the significance of the piece by literally failing to see the big picture. Yet one does not face the same dilemma when confronted with the beauties of the world in the flesh. In fact, closeness is most desirable in these circumstances, and a bad angle is hard to find. Why then are these flawless creatures of humanity best regarded at a distance? Jealousy. By being forcibly confronted with the reality of people exponentially more attractive than oneself, a person's self esteem plummets further than the average Pamela Anderson neckline.
"But Daniel!", you say, "People already suffer from low self esteem due to constant bombardment by unrealistic images of scantily clad women and perfectly sculpted men in advertisements and the media. Actually meeting them face to face wouldn't make a difference." I will concede that such is the case, but I would counter on two points. Firstly, these people need to man the fuck up. Anyone whose self esteem can be so severely damaged by television has an unhealthy attachment to it in the first place. Secondly, you are forgetting the disconnect between concept and practice. By actually experiencing that which has only manifested itself in thought and fantasy and knowing that we cannot take part in the tangible facet thereof, we become overwhelmed by jealousy, resentment and sadness.
Recently, I have found myself in this precise predicament in the New Residence Hall lobby. The culprits are two incredibly attractive young people who are not only gorgeous but in a relationship with each other. One is a short brunette with large rectangular classes (they work, trust me), the other a tall and muscular dirty blond with a very symmetrical face and fantastic bone structure. Every time I see one of them my heart burns with jealousy and I ask myself why the blessing of physical appeal was not bestowed upon me. When I see the two in tandem, I begin to see the merits of a Harrison Bergeron-esque society. I suppose my consolation prize for all of this is a snarky intellect and an unwarranted high opinion of myself.
My English teacher told me that clothes were invented not out of necessity for warmth but because the vast majority of human beings are ugly. While this still holds true, I suppose that being in the presence of genuine beauty isn't all bad. Though burning jealousy wins out, I can't deny that a small part of me smiles inside knowing that the world is still capable of fueling my hobby of stalking the lovelies of the world.
