I Think My Partner is Way Hotter than Me

A reflection of society’s unsolicited insecurities and expectations of self-doubt.

When I was in school stalking my now fiancé’s Instagram account daily, I considered him way out of my league.

What am I kidding? I still do.

I would tell people, “He’s a solid 11 out of 10. Me? I’m probably… to be realistic… a 6.5?”

That may sound harsh, but hear me out… while he had washboard abs from hours at the gym, I had an adorable muffin top from hours of snacking. So how could I ever believe this guy would be like, “Hotdamn, girl! You fine!”?

I had been to the parties where he was also in attendance, and I watched all the ladies swoon. Watched all the ladies flirt. Watched all the ladies vie for his attention.

Hell! I’d been watching that happen since high school — he was my high school crush, after all!

And the handsome face and chiselled physique aside, he was painfully just the kindest nicest, person ever. He’s the love interest in every coming-to-age romantic movie where girls watch it and walk out of the theatre with their galpals saying, “Where are these guys, and how do I get one?”

And now that I’d been invited into his friend group with the same guys he’d been friends with since forever… I dunno, my odds seemed slim at best to win over this hell-of-a-catch.

But that isn’t to say that I didn’t try.

Which was unfortunate for me at the time, because I was borderline obsessed with him, and convinced there was no way that he’d ever go for me.

It was cruel torture, to be honest, crushing on this guy at 22 (more than I’d ever wanted to be with another human being in my entire life) and thinking I’d never get a chance with him.

Or so I thought.

Society loves to make a show of our physical value.

I want to be clear about a thing or two… I’m not a troll.

And even if I was, I’d probably still look at myself in the mirror and be like, “Hotdamn, girl! You fine!!”

I have no qualms about how I look. I love myself, and even made a practice of showing the parts of my body I disliked most a shitton of love until I actually enjoyed having them attached to me.

While being single, I made myself my own standard of beauty.

That said, I’m not the kind of girl who gets hit on by every guy at a party.

Generally, those numbers would be a big fat zero.

I actually had a short stint where photography students liked using me as a “model” because they said, and I quote, “You have unique and interesting features.”

It was a compliment in their eyes — and I absolutely took it as such.

It just also means that, while I do in fact see myself as beautiful (inside and out), I don’t fit into society’s cookie-cutter standard of what makes a beautiful, model-like woman.

My physical appearance is not every person’s cup of tea.

Not like that shit even matters, I’m just using this to back up my point, which is that:

My fiancé, on the other hand… you could plaster that guy on the cover of GQ and they’d sell out in minutes.

He unquestionably falls into the category of what society deems as a beautiful, handsome, and desirable man.

Everyone I meet let’s me know it. I can sometimes see the gears turning in their heads as they think to themselves, “How does a girl like this get a guy like that.”

In fact, I’ve had people say that exact thing to me!

But don’t feel too bad for me, I’m sitting at my desk writing this and laughing out loud as I remember those incredibly shallow and rude people.

And at the end of the day, guess who he’s crawling into bed and gettin' dirty with? You guessed it, it’s me!

Suckaaaaas.

Love isn’t all about looks.

I’m not marrying my fiancé for his washboard abs.

In fact, we’re so happy in our relationship, that we both packed on the “Happy 15”, which we’re working to drop in the next 5 months before our wedding day.

If I only loved him for his chiselled six-pack, I would have been out the door years ago.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re still lurking there, just under a lovely, thin lining of romantic dinners, experimental baking, and cuddly date nights with delivery pizza and a movie. And wine… lots of homemade wine.

Come to think of it, I miss my defined hipbones too… haven’t seen those gals in a while.

Back to the point — I didn’t fall in love with my fiancé because of his physique. I didn’t coin him my “soulmate” just because he had bulging biceps.

I fell in love with his spirit, mind and soul. As he did mine.

We fell in love with each other’s gritty determination and hard work ethic.

We fell in love with our shared desire for travelling the world and seeking adventure.

We fell in love with our complimentary style of humour, and our belief in embracing one’s inner child.

We fell in love with the hopeless romantic who dwells within the both of us, and the mutual experience of being taken for granted by previous partners — and never wanting to take advantage of the person we love, not for one moment.

We feel in love with mutually humble, compassionate and patient dispositions.

We fell in love with each other’s massive hearts, artistic spirits and authentic souls.

The chemistry and physical attraction side of things is just a big ol’ plus!

Final word.

Three years in, and I still tell people I thought he was out if my league.

He argues that he felt the same way about me before we started going steady.

I give him an endearing “aww", a nice arm pat, and then reply, “That’s really sweet… but I don’t believe you.”

But that’s the thing — attraction is subjective.

And while I may not be everyone’s cup of tea (personality, looks or otherwise), I am exactly his cup of tea.

And he mine.

And I think that’s true love, in my books.

It’s two people looking back and forth at each other with a mutual feeling of, “How in the hell did I get so lucky to score this crazy-awesome human being as my partner?”

So maybe that’s what makes us soulmates:

I think he’s way out of my league.

But he also thinks I’m way out of his.

So we’re just two lovebirds hopelessly head-over-heels for one another, endlessly drowning each other in affection, compliments and undying mutual respect.

Which, in my humble opinion, isn’t such a bad foot to start on for our impending marriage.