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Am I That Hideous and Repulsive?

I guess so.

By Maurice BernierPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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Photo by Marc Witzel on Unsplash

It seems that whenever I need to think or clear my head, the best thing for me to do is hop in my car and just drive aimlessly. By that, I meant that I don't have any particular destination, but I would like to get anywhere very safely. It is just the fact that my 1992 Jeep Cherokee has become my rolling think tank.

As I was driving safely around town, I got to thinking as always. Recently, I saw the royal wedding of Prince Harry and his bride Princess Meghan. It was a lovely ceremony. As I watched it, I wondered. I had to ask myself, even though I am no longer looking to date, am I that hideous to any (or many) people? What do they see that I don't see? I don't know unless someone holds up a psychological mirror so that I can see myself in it.

As I traveled further on my journey to nowhere, I figured that I must have already answered my question. I must be hideous. I must be repulsive. I must be the one to ignore. And, perhaps, I am already too used to it to care anymore. In fact, I am quite immune to the bad feelings already at this point in my life. I arrived at the "I don't care anymore" stage.

I think back to high school. To be very honest, I went to a fairly large Catholic high school. There were very few unattractive ladies in my age group there. I would place it at 98 percent of them were rather beautiful and the other 2 percent were not so bad either. However, I just could not get any of them as a girlfriend. I tried. I honestly tried. After a while, I just gave up. I did have a high school sweetheart rather briefly, but she was two years younger than I was. I did say BRIEFLY. That is when I started having some doubts about myself back then.

As I educationally traveled through college, I found a few more very beautiful ladies. Some of them came from the same high school I did. Others came from elsewhere. Same problem, but the ladies found a repellent for whenever I approached them. I would often hear, "Maurice, I have a boyfriend" or "I am engaged, Maurice." Okay. I got the point. Again, I did get another girlfriend. She was a cute little French gal I met in high school. She was again another gal who was two years younger than I was. This one was different. She had a lovely French accent, but she wanted to leave the US after a while to live back in France. She ended up meeting some Italian guy and they moved to France. I wished them well.

After I was done with college, I returned to the outside world. Honestly, for a little while, I did try to date, but I got as far as a mailbox walks. Yup, I got nowhere. Now, some people would want to blow their brains out if they had gotten as depressed as I did at times. Not me. I studied Sigmund Freud in college. I just took my energy and applied it to other things. Are you enjoying the things I've written? I hope so. I put all of my dating energy into my writing skills. Whenever I feel like I want to go out and socialize, I just fire up my faithful laptop and start writing a story or something. Again, no dating for me.

My friends—my best friends—always say that I try too hard. Well, folks, that theory is so wrong that it isn't funny. They add that I should not look for love because love will come to me. Yeah, so will the flu which I was lucky to catch a few years ago. My theory is quite different from theirs. My theory is quite simple: Only good-looking people fall in love and eventually marry. How do I know this? Well, I am glad that you asked through the words on my screen.

I have what I call an impressive track record at spotting a beautiful lady. I even tell them because I like to see a lady smile whether she is family or a friend. To me, when a lady smiles, that is the sunshine on my day, a very dreary day. I do this every day. Doing it on FB is even easier because I can use my writing strength to put it on the screen for them to see.

So, my first theory was confirmed. I am a hideous looking guy. I am definitely rather repulsive. I can make the Elephant Man throw up. I can actually prove it, too. Let us go back to January 1, 1970. Believe it or not, not one single (individual, not marital status) lady has ever walked up to me at any time, anywhere and said, "Maurice, you are a good-looking guy." It has NEVER happened and NEVER will happen. So, my repulsiveness has been confirmed.

The second proof that I am hideous and repulsive? I looked at myself in the mirror. My parents were good-looking people. Me? Well, just because two good-looking people marry and have a child doesn't mean that the child will be good-looking as well. I am proof of that theory. Ladies never kiss my goodbye. They always shake my hand instead. It's easier on their stomach lining.

I don't get nice phone calls or love letters in the mail or even hearts on my Facebook page. I don't even get kisses. If I live long enough, I might get court orders, cease and desist notices, or even a rock through my window telling me to stay away. Well, they won't have to worry. I stay in my shell and never mix (or attempt to mix) romantically anymore. I am now content and settled into a life of getting up, doing my chores, nourishment, and then returning to bed. My life is just me, lived by me and survived by me.

What is it like for Hideous Me? Let me describe it this way. My all-time favorite car (not Jeep. A Jeep is a light truck, not a car) is any two-door sports cat built by Porsche. Picture a car showroom and smack dab in the middle of that showroom is a top of the line Porsche 959 with a beautiful paint job, an extremely powerful engine, and the works. The price tag is set at $150,000. So I reach into my pocket because THAT is the Porsche I want only to pull out a dime and some lint. Now, who, in that situation, would say, "Gee. I wonder if I could take this dime and this piece of lint inside and put them on their sales desk as a down payment?" That's when common sense takes a baseball bat and whacks that idiot upside of their head. All of the ladies I meet are Porshe 959's.

I recently reconnected with some friends from high school and other places. The ladies I knew from high school were still very attractive, but understandably older. Nevertheless, they were still in that 98 percent group. One, in particular, caught my eye. I looked through her photos and saw how happy she was and the kind of friends she has. Yup, I symbolically reached into my pocket and came up with a dime and some lint. I gave up that thought immediately.

I went to the mirror in my bathroom the next day. I wanted to cry but didn't. I looked at my image which didn't crack the mirror this time and resigned myself to the fact that I am one UGLY, HIDEOUS, and REPULSIVE man., I figured that I will just accept it. One friend of mine tried to tell me otherwise. So, I told him in my limited Spanish, "Yo soy muy feo!" which means "I am very ugly!" That stopped him because he knew not of what I said.

There is one nice thing about being HORRIBLE-looking like I am. I can go out on Haloween as is and get far more candy than any child in the neighborhood. That is until the next day when they find out that the "costume" they saw the night before wasn't a costume at all. It was the REAL me!

Do you like my picture, ladies?

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

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About the Creator

Maurice Bernier

I am a diehard New Yorker! I was born in, raised in and love my NYC. My blood bleeds orange & blue for my New York Mets. I hope that you like my work. I am cranking them out as fast as I can. Please enjoy & share with your friends.

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