Adjustment to a Standard

One of the things that make humans stand out from the rest of the world is our ability to think abstractly. Abstract thought and the ability to drive a Corvette are the only two things that separate us from, say, meerkats.

Our ability to think abstractly is great, but I think it comes as a mixed blessing because the ability comes tethered to a need. A need to understand, to explain, and to categorize. (Oxford comma ftw!)

"How is that a mixed blessing?", one might ask. "After all, the ability to think abstractly is useless unless it's ... er ... used."

I'm not intending to damn with faint praise our ability by saying it's a mixed blessing. Great things, from penicillin to the periodic table of the elements to banana nut bread have come about as a result of our compulsion to understand.

The negative is that we sometimes cannot appreciate what we have. When we don't understand it, we often seek to... to the detriment of appreciation. And once we understand something, the magic is gone and we become less interested. (This is consistent with the "Dissatisfied/Apathetic/Non-existent" train of thought that I've been having lately. I've gotta tame that beast before I let it out of its cage, however.)

Take a magic trick. Most of us are delighted that we can be fooled, but then we need to know how it works... and we aren't satisfied until we know. Once we know, we can feel cheated and the magic trick is useless except insofar as to see the joy/confusion/disinterest cycle repeat when we see someone else experience the illusion (a trick is something that whores do for money, after all).

All of this is preamble. Similar to our compulsion to admire and ruminate about a magic trick, or a sunset, or a really really short person, guys often want to know why a woman is attractive and why she is not.

OK. At this point I should disengage from the rest of the guys on the planet. I will only speak for myself. Feel free to generalize as much as you, the dear reader, would care to.

Obviously some women are attractive to me and some are not. Because of the aforementioned "mixed blessing", unless I am blasted out of my mind on booze, I tend to not merely accept that a woman is attractive (or not, or REALLY attractive, or REALLY unfortunate looking). I like to understand why a woman appeals to me, physically, and see if I can apply rules across the spectrum of chicks I meet and know.

I understand that there are definite physical characteristics that are programmed into me as being fetching: symmetry indicates health, youth-like features (such as smooth skin, absence of wrinkles, rosy cheeks) indicate nubility, cleavage is reminiscent of female buttcheeks. The ape within me really can't resist many of these things.

I'd prefer, though, to categorize traits differently. Something that is more humanizing both to me, as the potential humper, and to women, as the potential humpees.

Until recently (specifically, last night) I had a two-pronged approach to categorizing women physically. Clearly this is a VERY large brush, but the two components were the adjectives "Hot" and "Cute".

Strippers are often Hot but not necessarily Cute. A girl-next-door type might be Cute but not Hot. Some girls are high on both scales, and some women are less fortunate.

There is little practical application to this approach, but it's an interesting reference point for my internal dialogues (and trust me, I have many (although most involve Colonial American historical figures)) and an occasionaly conversation with a friend.

The reason that I bring all of this up is because the basic two-attribute approach has remained, intact and unchanged, for almost two years now. It sprang, fully formed, from the brow of Jupiter. It remained simultaneously unassailable and irrelevant (although maybe its lack of relevance put it beyond reproach). It was gospel, of a sort.

Until last night.

Last night, when I was attending a rock and roll concert with some friends, I was struck that the inquiry was missing a component. Hot is important. Cute is critical. Those two had been enough... until last night.

Classy.

Some women are Classy. Some women are not Classy. A woman's level of class can be a big turn-on, and I am shocked that it had not occurred to me.

What does "Classy" mean? I don't know how to define it, but I know it when I see it. As with Hot and Cute, the adjectives are atomic and, in attempting to deconstruct them, one destroys any value they have in defining anything.

So there's the updated approach: Hot, Cute, Classy.

I think that covers it. I can't see a fourth critical component on par with these things. Of course, Classy didn't occur to me until last night, so maybe I've yet to discover the Ununpentium of this approach.