I happen to know from being me that when you’re beautiful, you not only have a tendency to put people off, but the opposite sex can actually find you quite intimidating.
The same can be said for celebrity; which is honestly, just another form of beauty, but which causes an aura which can obscure anything off or weird about one’s actual physical features, until you feel like Charlie Murphy when he first met Rick James.
I had a friend once say to me, “I met Jay-Z the other night… He’s much better looking in person.”
And this was a male friend.
And you hear all the time how people that today are considered “beautiful” had a hard time growing up and couldn’t get dates and felt ostracized and this goes beyond the fictional like Joelle van Dyne from David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, models actually say this shit.
Then, of course, one of these alleged “beauties” gets with somebody the rest of us would have naturally considered to be way beneath their league, like when Julia Roberts famously married Lyle Lovette and we all become Chris Rock mad at Jermaine Dupri for bagging Janet Jackson.
All that understood, it shouldn’t seem counterintuitive at all that reports are indicating that Usher was getting all kinds of pussy thrown at him when he surfaced to take part in a Kevin Hart-sponsored charity event.
You might think that those other reports about Usher, the ones that had him dishing out no-look herpes like Magic Johnson on a fast break (wow, that was an unfortunate pun… and for a lot of reasons) would have scared any health-conscious chick off but in truth, it only knocked him down a peg, making him more approachable, like should you see a booger in a hot girl’s nose or right as you’re gathering up your confidence to approach her, you hear some lame used to date her.
And of course, the most significant approachable-rendering aspect of Ushers herpes “scandal” is the fact that one of his accusers is Quantasha Sharpton, a woman who would first be described as “cute in the face” by friends tryna pawn her off on an unsuspecting blind date.
Ms. Sharpton is rotund.
And I’m a gourmet of fat bitches, always have been.
Still, I like a lot of what I like, hint: and big just in general, like Ms. Sharpton appears to be, isn’t really my particular bag.
Sidebar: what is it about the last name “Sharpton” that makes you think…? Well, whatever.
Anyway, not that being my type should be any concern at all for Ms. Sharpton.
It’s likely that she’d look down on me after having fucked the likes of Usher.
And I’m not judging Usher, who I’m judging are all these random unknown chicks at Kevin Hart’s charity event who now thought that they had a chance with Usher just because, by their own estimation, they were hotter than Quantasia Sharpton.
To them I can only say, well, what the lady in the blue said as her last line in this commercial: