An incredibly attractive, close female friend of mine manages to get hit on not only by every breathing human male she encounters but also by their girlfriends. I had no idea propositions for threesomes from couples were nearly so common until I met her. I imagine she could walk around with half a slice of pizza stuck to her face and men would still try to pick her up. I suppose this could evoke a what-am-I-chopped-liver kind of response if I didn't also find it tremendously amusing.
I mention this not to brag about how attractive my friends are, but to point out the hidden dangers associated with being very good-looking.
So this blonde friend convinced me to take a kickboxing class with her at the gym last night, something I was initially hesitant to do because I look sort of scrawny and wimpy and as it turns out I actually am sort of scrawny and wimpy. (Is there any proof that all humans even have "oblique" muscles to begin with? My experience seems to suggest otherwise.) Something that may occur to you on your own during a kickboxing aerobics class, which did not initially occur to me, is that in order to avoid passing out you must not only precisely execute the steps and punches and jabs in sync with the instructor, but that you must also continue to breathe for the entire duration of class. Since I am one of the least coordinated people on this side of the equator, the simple act of breathing while keeping in tune with our freakishly fit instructor (who looked a lot like Emily Haines, if Emily Haines had been parented by Arnold Schwarzenegger and a BowFlex machine) proved to be too difficult. I started counting stars until I realized that stars seemed out of place on the inside of an aerobics studio.
We decided to take a break and consult one of the gym employees for advice on how to remain conscious. I nearly collapsed onto the front desk, wheezing, on the brink of unconsciousness, while the enamored and concerned personal trainer asked my perky friend detailed questions about what kind of symptoms she was experiencing. It occurs to me that had this been a real emergency, I would have had to manifest an epileptic fit in order to solicit any medical attention.
But being attractive can also be damaging to your own health, not just the health of your friends. For example, while hanging out in hell's kitchen in NYC at four A.M. (I don't know if that's the right neighborhood, but it sounds appropriate), some friends and I noticed an unfamiliar tour bus parked outside of the worst nightclub on earth and decided to capitalize on our friend's good looks by convincing her to climb aboard the bus and satisfy our curiosty. How did we know that something wasn't about to go horribly awry like the kidnapping of said friend and fleeing across the border only to use her as a drug mule? Um, we didn't. It remains an experience she won't talk about to this day.