The Dark Side of Being Beautiful

No wonder there is a ‘Me Too’ movement.

According to Insider Magazine, “Attractive people are more successful in life. They get paid more, get considered for more jobs, and have stronger social skills than unattractive people.”

It’s been my observation that there is a downside to being pretty.

I’ve never been a pretty girl. I’ve never had that drop-dead body that makes people stop and stare. And when I say people, I mean men.

But when I was in my twenties and early thirties, nobody threw up when they saw me.

Suddenly, even though I was never asked on a date in high school or college, men were showing interest in me. I would meet men at work, at gas stations, or just in regular places. Things certainly picked up for me. I admit I enjoyed the attention. I only remember one creepy old guy bothering me, and it wasn’t that serious.

Still, I didn’t like his attention, and I’ve never forgotten how it felt.

I’ve spent my career teaching in public schools and working in libraries. I’ve worked with a lot of young people. My stint working at a college library was very, very interesting. I had a succession of young female assistants. For the first time, I observed what it was like to be a pretty girl. In my youth, I was jealous of them. But now I see what I missed, and not all of it is good.

My first assistant was a beautiful young woman who could change her looks at will.

She had different outfits and would use a weave to change her hairstyle. Sometimes she would even put on clear glasses when she wanted to look “smart.” One day she would come in wearing an outfit from the ’70s, and another day, she would dress in “office” wear. Sometimes I wouldn’t even recognize her until she spoke to me. She would have a seat at the corner of the circulation desk. I would sit opposite her to watch the show.

It would begin right away. One or two nights a week, a club for future business leaders would have mandatory library time. The “men” would line up to talk to this young woman. One would appear beside her, and others would wait their turn.

The beautiful thing about this young lady is that she did not know what was happening.

She did not know that these awkward young men were trying to pick her up in their sad and clumsy way. I would sit across from her, trying not to laugh. One young man walked up to her and asked her when her birthday was. She answered, and he walked away. I guess that’s all he could think of to say to her.

My young assistant was always kind and sweet. Sometimes, I would stand behind the latest Adonis waving my arms in the air to alert her he was trying to pick her up. She honestly never knew.

Soon I had another pretty assistant.

This one was a wholesome beauty with long blonde hair. She and I bonded, and she became the daughter that I never had. She, too, would have a menagerie of young men who would line up to talk to her. One, in particular, would stand beside her for hours until I threatened to put a sign with his name on it to mark his spot. I’ll never forget the day another young man walked up to her and said, “I’ll always remember your face.” You can’t pay for this kind of entertainment. Since she was engaged, the disappointed young men would move on pretty fast.

Then came the day that I’ll never forget. The library hosted other departments in their building. There was a male college employee who ran a computer lab. The lab was located in the library, and we saw him daily. One day, he walked up to the desk and began a conversation with the two of us. Or so I thought. His attention was on my assistant, and then I saw him wink at her. She was 19 years old. He was 39 and had children her age.

I waited until he left, and then I said to her, “He winked at you. Has he ever done that before?”

The answer was yes, and then she confessed he had been texting her. He would text her in the morning, and the text would say something like, “Good morning, beautiful.” The whole story came pouring out, the texts, the phone calls, and the way he would talk to her at work. In the beginning, she thought it was normal interaction. The college was in a small town where everyone knew each other, and they were both locals. He told her she had no business being engaged to be married. I’m not sure how much further things went because she wouldn’t tell me.

A few days before this conversation, she had come in with her beautiful hair cut off.

Hair has long been a symbol of beauty, and she was trying to disguise her looks. Now I knew why.

I was furious. How dare this man engage in what I can only describe as sexual harassment? My assistant told me she had deleted the texts and hadn’t shared them with me because she knew I would make her report him. She didn’t want to.

So I was torn. My assistant was a legal adult, and I was a part-time college employee.

She had destroyed the evidence, and there was no way to prove anything.

I let it go but asked her to please let me know if it continued. I had to respect her confidence that I would abide by her wishes. I’m not sure if the harassment really ended there or not. I am still bothered by it all, and I’m not sure that I shouldn’t have reported it, anyway.

Something even more serious happened when I worked at the public library. Once again, there was a wholesome beauty with long beautiful hair. A patron was harassing her at work. He would ask her out and wouldn’t leave her alone, even though she told him she was married. She worked the night shift, and it was dark when she had to go to her car. I was concerned for her safety. It took her husband coming up to speak to the library director to make the director take steps to protect her against this patron. The “protection” consisted of a letter telling him to leave the young lady alone. The patron was not banned from the library. Later, he hid behind the stacks and caught her alone. He called her a “bitch” and a few other choice words. She was frightened, and I don’t blame her. She had the support of myself and her supervisor and we tried to watch out for her. It was obvious that our library director didn’t want to deal with the situation. It shouldn’t surprise you that the young lady cut her hair off as well. The long hair had been part of the patron’s attraction to my co-worker.

Sexual harassment is a real thing that has too long been ignored.

In the past, there was a lot of winking among men when it came to the issue. It horrified me when a friend who was granting me an interview for another story told me that back in the 1970s her supervising principal threatened to hold her paycheck if she didn’t sleep with him. She had no recourse back in those days to report him. The best thing about living in today’s world is now there are options for reporting sexual harassment. It’s not a perfect system, but at least it exists. Hopefully, one day there will be no need for a Me Too movement.