It's What's On the Inside That Counts (Sort of).

I feel like when we were kids, the world bombarded us with stories meant to teach us the importance of looking beyond the superficial and judging people by what's inside their hearts.  My favorite was about this fellow named Goro who lived in medieval Japan.  Goro was short, fat, ugly and just plain grotesque, real freak show stuff.  But despite lacking in the looks department, Goro had a gift for pottery.  Now, there was this hot girl in the village who all the men desired.  Even Goro.  For although he was grotesque, he was still a man.  At some point he works up the courage to talk to her, but his advances are met with laughter and derision, for freaks are not permitted to court hot girls.  This is known.  Now, I forget a large part of the middle of the story (I imagine it's a lot of Goro hemming and hawing about what to do and the hot girl realizing that all her attractive suitors are douchebags) but I do recall that in the end Goro gives the girl one of his cups as a gift.  The cup is badly misshapen and just plain weird-looking, so the hot girl is like, "This cup is grotesque like you, Goro!"  But, when she takes the lid off and looks inside, she sees the most beautiful artwork---cranes and tigers and other creatures delicately painted on a golden background (I think it was real gold!).  Upon seeing this, the girl finally realizes what the audience knew all along--you can't judge a Goro by its cover.  I forget whether Goro and the girl fall in love and live happily ever after (looking back on it, I hope not because the girl was kind of a bitch--you can do better, Goro!).  But I do remember the moral of that story--It's what's on the inside that counts.

So since the days of Goro "It's what's on the inside that counts" has been the Mantra, a sword to pierce through society's unjust and superficial darkness.  I wielded this sword with great care, making a conscious effort to get to know someone before judging them (Well, except for those people with vacant, soulless eyes ::shudder:: ).   The extra effort's served me well in that I befriended people I don't think I would've without the Mantra.  For example, the kid in elementary school who ate crayons and spoke in a weird accent.  The consensus in the class was to shun him.  Shun him and his crayon-eating ways!  But as it turns out, his weird accent was just British, and he ate crayons because the box advertised them as "non-toxic" (who could argue with that?).  So we became fast friends until his family moved back to their side of the Pond.  Or how about the crazy lady in Japan with the creepy foreigner fetish?  Shun her!  Shun her and her creepy stalker ways!  As it turns out, she was the sort of lady who sends letters with Dragon Ball stamps.  Just a few of the many friendships attributable to the Mantra.

Anyway, I guess this whole Mantra thing's been on my mind recently because I'm starting to find it less and less effective in the realm of romance.  Of course I continue to judge girls based on substance, but I'm starting to wonder if that's being reciprocated.  Chemistry with the ladies flourishes over the phone, email and text, but then suffocates and dies upon meeting face-to-face.  And the one holding the pillow is usually not me.  So why?  I mean, the face-to-face conversation goes well enough--we laugh; we cry.  But at the moment of truth, she insists we split the check--the death sentence!!--and we go our separate ways.

Now, those who know me know that I'm definitely not some kind of player or anything, but I must say that this did not occur in the past.  Or at least not at the frequency it does today.  No, back then the hard part was always everything before the face-to-face meeting, overcoming my social awkwardness to convince a girl over the phone to meet me in person.  The face-to-face meeting was usually the victory lap.  So what's the deal now?  Don't girls still value a man of substance?

Enter the Persian sage, D.D. (I guess we can call him "Double D" for ease of reference).  Me and Double D were friends in high school (another pairing attributable to the Mantra).  We lost touch over the years, but recently reconnected through the power of the Internet.  So anyway, Double D has been acting as something of a swagger coach for me, for I'm sure as many do he wishes to see me happily paired up with some lovely lady.  At the very least he wishes to be rid of my incessant bemoaning of singledome.  Anyway, I presented Double D with the conundrum that'd been occupying so much of my time, and his response was . . . well, read for yourself: 

"Bro, of course girls value a man of substance.  But they also value a man who looks sharp.  Yeah, superficially clothes are about looks--of course a guy who can dress himself well is going to be physically attractive to a girl.  But that same well-dressed guy also signals to the girl that he has his shit together (a plus) and provides her one less thing to worry about (a double-plus).  In essence, it's a tool to accentuate what's on the inside; an augmentation of your Mantra, my friend."

And there you have it.  A simple solution to what turned out to be a simple conundrum--get some new clothes, buddy.  And truth be told, this is some advice that was sorely needed.  In the past three or four years I'd taken the Mantra to an unhealthy extreme by investing zero effort into maintaining any wardrobe apart from what I needed for work and what would keep me from falling too far below societal norms should I need to venture out of the house for non-work purposes.  I guess I can blame a part of that on letting myself become somewhat of a recluse over that time period, my existence consisting of an infinite loop of: apt --> work --> apt --> work --> apt.  And, while caught in that loop, I wielded the Mantra not as a sword, but as a crutch--"It's not me, it's them!  Damn the world and their judging ways!"  Now that I've reentered the world of the living, I see that it's time for some tweaking to the wardrobe.

"But what of the lesson of Goro?" you may be asking.  Well, I guess it's become clear that the Mantra needs a slight adjustment.  Perhaps something to the effect of: "It's what's on the inside that counts after what's on the outside has been counted."  Meaning, if you can't get someone to notice you, it doesn't really matter how damned golden your heart is.  And I suppose even with Goro that was obvious.  I mean, the hot girl only liked Goro because he made her a badass cup; not because she suddenly realized he wasn't grotesque and disgusting.  The cup was his foot in the door to her heart, and his golden personality was what ultimately swung it wide open.  But he needed the cup.

Unfortunately, I can't catch a beautiful girl's eye by handing her a hand-made cup brimming with metaphor, so I must do so the old-fashioned way: plumage.  After all we're just very complicated animals, and evolution and indecency laws having robbed us of any natural means to present ourselves to the opposite sex, we must use clothing as a substitute.   Part of me feels a bit strange modifying the Mantra, but I suppose it was inevitable, especially with age.  The vitality of youth can go a long way toward covering up minor superficial blemishes, but as you get older and those blemishes become more noticeable--droops getting droopier and sags getting saggier--more care to plumage can help tip the balance.

So there you are--Resolution Three: Fashion More.  I think of the three--write more, cook more, fashion more--this resolution will be the hardest for me to keep, but I am relishing the challenge, despite what I anticipate is a slow and painstaking process ahead.  Whether I will end up as some type of fashionista is unknown, but I will at least strive to bring myself back to where I used to be.  Well, maybe a bit past that ;)

--KM

"Turn up the lights in here baby.  Extra bright, I want y'all to see this."