The Cons of Being Too Attractive

My biggest struggle? Being gorgeous, of course.

I wasn’t born with this face. My parents helped — gave me the large eyes, the heart-shaped lips, the high cheekbones — but the rest is pure effort: countless hours at the gym and round the racecourse for the chiselled jaw that blesses many of you as I stride down Market Street. A boon, you might think. The world is made for attractive people — not only do you move through it on a current of compliments and stolen glances in the library, but you benefit too from the ‘Halo Effect’: Being attractive, people naturally think you funnier, kinder, and more intelligent.

Despite all this, sometimes I wish I had been born ugly.

If you have a moment to lend an ear, let me tell you about the disadvantages.

1. Nobody Wants to be Friends With Me

After several years at this university, I can count my close friends on one hand with five fingers to spare. It puzzled me for many months as a fresher before I arrived at the natural conclusion: People don't like competition. It's not particularly hard to understand why you wouldn't want to be friends with someone who is constantly redirecting your 601 crush’s attention, leaving you to scrap over the Divinity students at 3am. I do not blame them. I simply wish, occasionally, that I was easier to be around.

2. The Burden of High Expectations

Following on,  why can't I simply settle down in peace? As something of a Hugh Hefner reincarnate, many of my acquaintances were shocked, horrified, and frankly disgusted when I revealed that I had entered into a relationship. When I pressed them on it, they responded that they had fully expected me to be a 601 demon in perpetuity. It is a heavy crown. A player must one day hang up his jersey, and it falls to those closest to him to accept this with a bit more grace than they have thus far managed.

3. Green-eyed Envy

I don't have the common displeasure of fighting the average St Andrews resident over pavement space. Rather, I must contend with something altogether different — the scowls and fierce looks I collect as I jaunt around town. Jealousy is a cruel mistress and, rather than brightening one’s day — as someone, say, moderately attractive might — my particular situation simply reminds people of one of two things: that they will never look like me, or that they will never have me.

4. Academics? What academics? 

Having been facially blessed since birth, I coasted through primary school — not on account of my academic talents, but because my teachers, so wowed by my aesthetic charm, were moved to quietly amend my test scores. As a result, I never had to endure the difficult but character-building challenges my peers suffered, such as long division or spelling. My place at St Andrews was secured only once I had attached a JPEG of my face in lieu of a personal statement. I regret nothing, except perhaps the spellling.

5. Future — Ruined 

My academics, never having been up to scratch, were not what I intended to trade on. Where more naturally would I fit than modelling? And yet, having interviewed with several agencies and been met with polite refusal, the reason becomes clear — I will never model because firms cannot have their entire existing roster pale into obscurity overnight. I understand. I have not forgiven it. I’m still coming to terms with what this means for my prospects. Maybe I’ll run for Union Exec instead.

6. The Burden, borne

I speak for the dispossessed: Those who, assumed to have it all, find themselves with nothing but their looks — and nothing but their looks precisely because of them. To all the looksmaxxers and gym bunnies currently crouched over a kale salad and a jawline roller: put it down. Pick up the ice cream scoop. Stay ugly.

It's a better life for all.

Illustration by Calum Mayor