Amanda Filipacchi - The Unfortunate Importance of Beauty

He seems hurt, and in that moment, I catch a glimpse of what is the real problem with Strad (and by the same token, what the problem is for Lily): Strad is a somewhat endearing asshole. He’s a generally amiable guy with some odious opinions.

He finally responds to Georgia’s accusation with, “You feel that way because you’re a woman. It’s different for men. A man has to be physically attracted to a woman. If he can’t get it up for her, what is he supposed to do, shove it in with a stick?”

We’re all a little shocked. I steal a glance at Lily. She’s staring down at her plate, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Georgia recovers first and says to Strad, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one in this room who has bad taste in romantic partners.”

“That’s good to hear,” Strad says, smiling at Jack with complicity. But then, noticing that Jack doesn’t return his smile, he says, “May I ask who it is?”

“No, you may not.” And then, after a beat, Georgia says to him, “Could you go for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, could you date me?”

He seems stunned. “You mean, considering how charming and charismatic you’ve been with me?”

“Whatever. Could you?”

“You mean if I could imagine there wasn’t a torrent of hostility coming from you to me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just answer.”

“Well, I can’t imagine it.”

“Why do you think you always date physically beautiful women?”

“I like ’em.”

“Yes, but why aren’t you capable of falling for someone with other attributes?”

He looks mildly exasperated and doesn’t answer.

I glance at Lily, sitting there frozen and looking as though she wishes she could disappear. I disapprove of beauty conversations taking place in front of her, and yet, now that my pet peeve is being bounced about, I cannot, will not, be left out of the dialogue.

“Strad,” I say, “there are other aspects to a person. Even other physical aspects that can be sexy — apart from beauty.”

“Yes, of course. But… like what?”

“Anything!” I snap impatiently. “Body language, for example.”

“Body language doesn’t do it for me.”

“Then pick another.”

“None of them do it for me. What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, practice. Eventually, you may acquire the taste. You may even wonder how you were ever satisfied with the straightforward, simple, dumb kind of beauty.”

Strad replies, “Most men don’t get turned on by ‘other attributes.’ In fact, if you want the truth, those ‘other attributes,’ especially brains, talent, higher education, accomplishments, impressive jobs, often make a beautiful woman less sexy in the eyes of many men. Not in mine — I’m not that way. But in the eyes of many. They would never admit it, of course. Anyway, why are you all pickin’ on me?” He turns to the only other man in the room. “I feel persecuted, Jack. Help me out here a little, will ya?”

Jack sighs. “What can I say? Many guys can get turned on by other attributes. Most jerks can’t.”

“Et tu, Jack? What’s going on here? Anyway, you’re full of it. I’m sure you go for the best-looking women you can get, and you probably do pretty well getting the better specimens.”

Georgia yanks on her handcuff. “Specimens? Are you for real?”

“Sorry, poor word choice,” Strad admits. He leans toward me and says under his breath, “I’m glad she’s chained, by the way.” He turns back to Georgia. “I’m not an artist with words, like you, Georgia, but you know what I mean.”

Georgia says, “Many years ago I met a guy at a dinner party and I thought he was really ugly. Pale skin, very thick lips, prematurely gray frizzy hair, puffy slit-eyes like a toad’s, and I was horrified when he sat next to me. Within probably five minutes of him talking to me, I was utterly charmed, completely under his spell to the point that I asked the hostess if he was single. The hostess said he was gay. That didn’t stop me having a crush on him for years.”

Eyebrows raised, Penelope says, “That’s funny, the same thing happened to me in college. There was a guy in my drawing class. I found him utterly repulsive. He was short, fat, had greasy stringy black hair plastered on his balding sweaty head. He complimented me on one of my drawings. Then I bumped into him in the coffee shop and we had a snack together. During that snack I developed a massive crush and started finding him beautiful. We became friends. My crush lasted for months, maybe years.”

“What happened?” Lily asks. “He didn’t like you back?”

“He was gay.”

We all laugh, even Strad.

“I don’t suppose that’s ever happened to you,” Georgia says to Strad.

“No, I’ve never had a crush on an ugly lesbian,” he replies.

“Come on, I’m serious. Haven’t you ever developed feelings for someone you weren’t attracted to at first?”

Frowning in mock concentration, he says, “Oh, dear, I’d have to give it some thought when you’re not all looking at me.”

But we keep on looking. Even Lily. She’s clearly very interested in the topic.

Strad finally says carefully, “I don’t recall if that’s ever happened to me. But I’m sure it could, under the right circumstances.”

Penelope waves me over.

“What is it?” I ask her.

“I need to whisper something to you.”

I bend down to her level. Cupping her free hand around her mouth, she whispers in my ear, “This only just occurred to me. The weapon could be a tiny poisoned glass dart blown out of a tiny straw smuggled in the hem of a garment. It could be done one-handed with the hand that’s not cuffed. Strad is not safe right now.”

I blanch. She’s absolutely right. The metal detector wouldn’t have picked up a tiny glass dart and straw, and neither would the frisking.

Penelope warning me of this method seems to indicate that she’s not the killer.

On second thought, if she were the killer, she’d still have plenty of reasons to tell me of this method. In a flash, four possible reasons go through my mind, and I’m sure there are more:

1) She wants to divert my attention away from another method she’s about to use.

2) She is curious to see how I would have protected Strad against this method, had she thought of using it.

3) She wants to make herself appear more innocent.

4) She knows that by telling me about this method, she is forcing me to increase Strad’s protection, which will escalate the weirdness of the evening to a degree that might cause Lily to finally lose any remaining hope that Strad could ever fall in love with her, which will help her move on with her life.

Barely breathing, I say, “Strad, get up.”

“Why?” he asks, getting up.

“Come right this way.” I lead him out of the room and around the corner, while shielding him from the others with my body as much as possible. I bring him his chair. “Sit down.”

He sits. From my seat at the table, I will be able to see both parties while they won’t be able to see or hurt each other.

This is only a temporary solution because I’m sure Strad will not want to stay behind that corner for two whole hours. Maybe not even for two whole minutes. Therefore, I must come up with a better system to protect him from possible darts. I wish I could ask Georgia for ideas.

Luckily, it doesn’t take me too long to come up with one. I set myself to work immediately.

I open the living room closet and withdraw the big sheets of transparent plastic I bought to protect my furniture when my apartment was painted a few months ago.

“Why am I around this corner?” Strad calls out to me.