Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Oh, What Fresh Humiliation is This?

This is a blog about the life of one little cupcake in New York City. As such, we have discussed or referred to many different kinds of rejection. Let's review. If you are a cupcake like me you can expect to experience the rejection that comes when: the boy you like doesn't like you back; you can't get a job to save your life; the girls renting out a fourth room in their apartment decide to go with some one who is not allergic to cats, or has a steady income; the dog you're sitting for will obey everyone in the Park except you, your date spends the whole night staring at the waitress, or the waiter; your New Year's Eve date ends at 6:30pm; your friends come to town, but forget to call you; you are rejected from a Master Class after submitting your writing sample; your Friendster request is denied; that cool chick you met at someone's going away party in SoHo last summer inexplicably does not want to be your new friend; your Credit Card is declined; your boss refuses to play Uno with you on the flight to Frankfurt; the Jews won't let you join the Synagogue down the street so you can use their pool, a homeless man hits on you noting that he doesn't mind a sister with a big booty; okay, I'm sure I'm forgetting a few here, but you get the idea.

Well, yesterday I had the joy of experiening a fresh new form of humiliation. It was a one part Real Estate/ one part personal rejection. Here's how it went.

Yesterday after work, I went to see an apartment. It's a three bedroom and they're going to have a room avaliable for August 1st, exactly when I want to move. I had emailed back and forth with one of the guys who lives there, and we set up a time to meet. I arrived and got a quick tour of the place, and it was pretty great, especially for the price. We just sat down so I could ask him about 100 hundred questions when the buzzer started ringing. We ignored it; the guy was cool. Finally, the buzzer keeps ringing and the guy says, that must be the other girl coming to see the apartment, but I told her not to come until 7:30pm so we could have time to talk. I looked at the clock, it was 6:40pm. No problem, I said. These things happen.

The girl enters the apartment and she is gorgeous. Supermodel gorgeous?, asked Princess of Darkness. Well, a little short for supermodel status, but otherwise yeah, a knockout. And she is being really friendly and extroverted. Instantly, I know that I am in trouble. You can tell the guy feels bad, and kinda doesn't know what to do. So I say, hey I'll just watch TV here so you can give her a tour. See? I am such a nice person.

The dude and the cover girl go downstairs. I hear them laughing. Oh shit. After ten minutes or so, they come back up, pass me without a word, and head to the back of the apartment. I wait. Seinfeld ends. I put on Law & Order. Now, the apartment isn't that big, I figure maybe they went into the backyard. I wait. Twenty minutes go by. They are not coming back. Should I go look for them? I think as they passed, the girl asked if the guys would mind if she used their tub to take baths. Twenty-five minutes have passed and, clearly, I will not be getting this apartment. Now I am only concerned with exiting with some kind of dignity in place. I try calling some friends to solicit advice but my cell reception is no good. I can't decide if it would be better to say goodbye (and add something snarky) or just show myself out. I dont really feel like facing an awkward scene or more fake niceness from the chick, so, after half and hour, I leave my business card on the table and let myself out.

Look, I'm going to let the cat out of the bag. There is a lot of animosity that exists between pretty girls and the unpretty (not ugly mind you, just not pretty). Different gradiations occur within these chilly relationships, usually depending on how skinny you are in relation to the other person. No one wants to hear this, but its true. I try not to play these games, because I in turn do not want to be judged by how I look, and am hopeful that others will opt out of the game. And I've actually never wished that I was a pretty girl. Not even during Middle School. I always figured that being pretty comes with all sorts of problems I can only imagine and I'd rather just be myself. But. Jesus F-ing Christ! Goddamn it. Do they have to get everything? Everything??!! Boys. Jobs. Free drinks. A seat on the subway. Help carrying that suitcase. First-Class upgrades. And now, aparently, the best apartments.

I ask you, what is a cupcake to do?



6 comments:

Vanessa said...

It isn't fair, I know, and I'm glad to see you writing about this situation in such an honest and eloquent manner. I understand completely.

Cupcake said...

Thanks Vanessa. I feel a lot better now that I got that out of my system.

Queenie said...

Well, missy, I'd start by NOT INSULTING JESUS. And then maybe you could use HIS pool.
I hear the shallow and the deep end are parted.

Yoda said...

Okay, it's not just the pretty girls who get everything. There are significant advantages to being a great-looking guy. Apparently. Not that I would know first-hand.

I will tell you though that the guy who chooses the pretty girl over you for a roommate isn't going to have to wait for death to arrive at the Second Circle of Hell...she'll be moving in on August 1st.

I had a roommate like that once...used her not inconsiderable charms to obtain everything she could. For a while, I bought into it...I'm sorry to say.

Turned out she found me repulsive, but was also deeply offended that I never hit on her.

She lasted about a month and a half.

~Kurt

Cupcake said...

I agree, good-looking guys undoubtedly reap perks as well, but I think a woman is also more susceptible to a man's charm; even if a dude is not a looker, if he pours it on, a gal might jump at what he's selling.

I think guys are a lot less subtle and a lot less concerned with charm.

Tiffany said...

You know what's funny? I had that same EXACT thing happen to me. Well not EXACTLY... I think I would have had a full on panic attack!

But I did look at this *perfect* studio once and the guy who owned the building practically told me the place was mine. He just had to "show it" to the other girl because she was already on her way. As I passed this size negative 2 bottle blond with gi-normous, er, personalities as I was leaving I somehow knew I would never hear from Mr. Owner again.

Shocking.

Also, *I* wouldn't decline your Friendster invite. How rude!