You're So Vain

During my first conversation with a guy we’ll call John, he tells me that he a) runs five miles a day, b) has a six-pack, c) considers himself quite handsome and was voted Best Looking in his office, and d) is quite the catch. Oh dear, I’m worried about how this guy lifts his inflated head off of his pillow each morning. I’m sorry, but when did it become okay to go on and on and on about oneself? Is this considered normal these days? Did this come about because of all of this online dating and the need to sell oneself sight unseen?

While there is nothing wrong with working out, anyone who runs that much may just might be a sadomasochist. As for a six-pack, I wish he were referring to the beer in his fridge. Considering oneself to be handsome and voicing this makes me wonder if some kind of metrosexual line has been crossed. And, even though I’m not a fan of fishing, I wish he were talking about taking a day trip with the guys rather than himself. Yikes—narcissism is alive and kicking.

As I scroll through online postings of guys ready to be matched up, they almost all describe themselves as attractive/good looking/gorgeous/handsome. Is it possible that this many truly beautiful men live within ten mile radius of Manhattan? I mean, I know that there are a lot of people living here, but really? I look at the pics and sometimes they seem to maybe be telling the truth. Other times, not so much. But it is hard to tell with pictures that look like they were taken with shoddy camera phones or developed from film that has been sitting at the bottom of a lake for the last decade or so. And so, conversation becomes quite important. And conversation that goes beyond vain, extremely important.

I keep talking to John, hoping that he will prove me wrong, hoping that he will start maybe asking some questions about me. But he doesn’t. He talks and talks and talks about himself. I hear about the fancy car he drives, his collection of imported knives, the last vacation he took, his favorite hair gel, and his best attributes (in addition to having that six-pack). Needless to say, I smartly decide not to date John but I can’t help feeling that something has gone horribly awry. What happened to all of the humble, Jimmy Stewart-like guys of the world?

As I begin to explore this topic with friends, I make further shocking discoveries. I hear of men who spend more time primping and preening than their female counterparts, guys who have appointments for waxing and eyebrow shaping, and even one ex-husband who broke into the bronzer on more than one occasion (hmm, reason enough to divorce?). As I research, I also stumble upon marketing campaigns for skincare lines, accessories (and I don’t just mean watches here), and makeup lines. Makeup for men. Let me repeat this, MAKEUP for MEN! Sorry, but men wearing foundation, eye-liner, nail polish and the like just seems very wrong (as does bronzer for that matter). Surely, this isn’t catching on, right?

I try to put this newfound knowledge out of my mind as I prepare for my next date. I send a little prayer to cupid that he will please be cute, smart, humble, and makeup free. We meet on a busy street corner and I immediately like his smile, his simple khakis, his quirky glasses. We make our way to lunch and he tells me stories that make me laugh. As we sit down, he shrugs out of his coat—a simple, green sweater coat. He smiles sheepishly and says he hopes that I don’t think it to be too old-fashioned, his coat that is. We trade tales of dates gone awry, our favorite comfort foods, and the best movie theaters around the city. Not once does he mention his work-out routine, his physical attributes, his obvious cuteness, or that he believes himself to be catch of the day. I find myself leaning closer to him, trying to look into his eyes (and to perhaps discreetly check for makeup). Thankfully, he appears to be a-la-natural and for that, I send up a big Hallelujah!