Ugly.

It may be surprising to the 0.1% of my readership that doesn't know me personally, but for all the fucking I do, I'm kinda ugly. I'm moderately overweight (and all in the belly, not in the tits and ass, so you can't even call me "curvy"), and I don't really make up for it in the face. I'm not comedy ugly, but if you saw me on the street and thought about it, you might figure I don't get laid much.

Of course, the truth is I get as much sex as I have time for. Brandon confessedly likes 'em chubby (oh, so he does have a kink, sort of--that's reassuring), and Jon doesn't really like the way I look but can accept it for the sake of a clean-living, intelligent 22-year-old who can take a flogging like a champ.

The guys are pretty damn ugly themselves, not that I care. I don't really go for good-looking. It's not sour grapes or low standards; it's just different standards. I may overlook beer bellies and odd-shaped faces, but I'm a merciless snob for funny, independent, and smart. And it's only gotten more so over the years. As the average lean muscle mass of my lovers has approached zero, the proportion of them with articles in national publications has approached one.

Call me a rationalizing uggo, but I've never found that my partner's appearance affects my sexual experience. Once I'm naked with someone, it's physical skills that matter. I don't have a more intense orgasm because I'm looking at a pretty face. (Half the time I'm looking at the pillow or the inside of a blindfold anyway...) I've fucked skinny and I've fucked fat, I've fucked track star and I've fucked web designer, and you know what? The fat web designer knows what to do with his hands.

I don't really worry about my appearance with the guys anymore. On our first dates I was insane about it, oh my God they'll take one look and very politely tell me "I'm just not feeling that connection", but then both our first dates ended in sex and invitations to second dates. After that I felt a little more sure of myself. It's only now, when I'm faced with meeting more new people, that I'm insecure again.

I'm smart. I'm funny. I'm a good driver. I'm good at medicine. I've got a little shelf full of movies with my name in the credits and literary journals with my poetry in them. I fuck like there's no fucking tomorrow. I'm all that and a bag of chips, man. But I ain't pretty. And sometimes I feel like pretty is everything.

Too damn bad I had to be a chick, huh?