The Way to a Man's Heart

I recently had an opportunity to see a few nineteen or twenty year-old boys get visibly aroused. It was an interesting experience.

Growing up, my parents always told me that intelligence trumped physical beauty. I do believe this, but I also believe that part of the reason why they kept repeating this was that I was such an ugly duckling (their term, not mine). My dad used to look at me, shake his head sadly and then say "Well, at least you're smart".

Despite what I believe, there does appear to be a certain order in terms of what attracts one person to another. Generally, one's looks are the primary hook to getting another's attention. One doesn't have to be a knock-out, but something about one's physical appearance should speak to another person. After said other person's interest has been piqued, the looks should be backed up by something more substantial. That's my personal philosophy of course; I've met some couples whom I can't figure out (i.e. one person is wildly attractive in all senses and the other is aesthetically pleasing to the detached eye, but utterly two-dimensional -- which always makes me rethink whether the wildly attractive person is really all that great if s/he could have such shallow needs).

But I digress. My point is that I've grown up with the belief that it's not enough to be puff pastry, although of course, it is sometimes nice to walk into a room and have people ogle you (and not because you unknowingly have toilet paper hanging from the seat of your pants or something along those lines).

Recently, I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch at a restaurant located within a mall. Parking at this mall is free, and therefore a rare commodity. It is always an absolute bitch to find a space, particularly one close to a mall entrance. Most of the time, I employ the stalker approach; I hover near an exit until I see someone with shopping bags in hand, and follow that person slowly. (This method doesn't always pay off though, and I swear that people like to torture you by deliberately taking their time getting to their car in the most circuituous route possible).

On this particular occasion, I spied what appeared at first blush to be a desirable spot. Eager not to lose it, I sped over quickly. Important to note is the fact that I drive a fairly large vehicle (Chevrolet Suburban), which according to a friend of mine carries with it more square footage than his house. I therefore always back into a parking spot, because one never knows what might happen when it's time to leave. There is an art to parking my car though. My husband, who normally is an exceptionally good and confident driver, parks my car as though he's a myopic ninety-year-old lady.

As I approached the spot, I realised the reason why it was empty was that it was a fairly tight squeeze for any car, let alone a large SUV. I was debating the odds of finding another parking space in time to make my lunch appointment, when I noticed three young guys standing close by chatting with each other. One of them glanced up at me, and then nudged his buddies. With a smirk on his acne mottled face, he said something to his friends, at which point all three burst into raucous laughter. I imagined that the script went something along the lines of "Let's watch this chick try to park her big ass truck in this teensy spot".

Now, I'm used to all the bad driving jokes about women, Asians and Montrealers. I fall into the unfortunate category of belonging to all three groups. Stereotypes notwithstanding, I fancy myself to be a rather good driver. Determined not be be the object of ridicule, I gunned my engine and backed into the rather cramped spot in one smooth and very rapid tire squealing move. I then jumped out, slammed the door and sauntered off whistling, but not before glancing over my shoulder at the suddenly silent guys and grinning cheekishly. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd been a two-tonne granny -- they were clearly turned on by a girl who could adeptly maneouvre a large vehicle.

I'll have to amend my theory of attraction of physical appearance preceeding intelligence. Driving abilities seems to trump them both.