Since June 10th is 6/10, it reminds me of one of the dumber moments of my life. One is never so insensitive than when trying to be sensitive.
On an evening about 15 years ago, I was chatting with my friend Liz over ICQ. I’ll pause for a moment for everyone in my generation to have an “Oh man, ICQ, I feel old…” moment, and now let’s continue. Liz was feeling pessimistic about her love life, as I believe she’d recently split up with a boyfriend. I was attempting to be supportive, though she was still feeling down about her looks. She wrote something along the lines of “it’s not like I’m pretty enough to attract a lot of guys” or whatnot, and my response was….
“I don’t know about that, you’re at least a 6/10.”
Even now, you’re probably slapping your forehead with astonishment that anyone would be such an unstoppable moron as to write these words, but here was my logic.
1. I personally didn’t think Liz was very attractive myself, so while I obviously wanted to make her feel better about herself, it would’ve been disingenuous to overly praise her beauty.
2. I wrote “at least,” so really, 6/10 was just the bare minimum. Right? Right?
3. Hey, 6/10, that’s a positive number! If asked to rank myself, I surely wouldn’t go any higher than three or four out of both realism or (false) modesty.
Ok, so that’s where I was coming from. As I recall, Liz didn’t really respond to the comment, or made no mention of it, or we got talking about other things. The next day at school I was walking with Morgan, a mutual friend of both Liz and I. Liz’s recent breakup came up, and I brought up our ICQ chat and how Liz was down on herself. Morgan said something like “awww, Lizzie is really cute,” and I said “I tried to tell her that, I even said she was a 6/10.”
At this point Morgan stopped in her tracks and said WHAT. I repeated myself, a little more uncertain this time, and then Morgan slugged me in the arm with such force that I probably need Tommy John surgery. It was essentially a Champ routine — a comment, a PARDON, repeating the comment, then a severe beating. While I was massaging my ruined arm, Morgan was letting me have it about what a five-alarm stupid thing that was to say to a person, and it began to dawn on me (jusssssst a little bit) that I may have made a mistake.
It occurred to me in hindsight (or, perhaps, once Morgan explained it to me while yelling) that I could have simply said “I think you look just fine” and left it at that, since that was all I was trying to say. I certainly didn’t need to stick an actual numeric ranking on the subject, that was a wee error. Really, “just fine” is the definition of 6/10. It’s every 54/40 song, it’s every bowl of Cheerios, it’s every Donovan McNabb season.
So I give myself a 6/10 on good intentions, and a 0/10 on execution. Morgan gets a 10/10 for punching power, as just think, I may be pitching in the major leagues right now had it not been for her vicious (yet not entirely unwarranted) attack. I’ll see her in court.
On an evening about 15 years ago, I was chatting with my friend Liz over ICQ. I’ll pause for a moment for everyone in my generation to have an “Oh man, ICQ, I feel old…” moment, and now let’s continue. Liz was feeling pessimistic about her love life, as I believe she’d recently split up with a boyfriend. I was attempting to be supportive, though she was still feeling down about her looks. She wrote something along the lines of “it’s not like I’m pretty enough to attract a lot of guys” or whatnot, and my response was….
“I don’t know about that, you’re at least a 6/10.”
Even now, you’re probably slapping your forehead with astonishment that anyone would be such an unstoppable moron as to write these words, but here was my logic.
1. I personally didn’t think Liz was very attractive myself, so while I obviously wanted to make her feel better about herself, it would’ve been disingenuous to overly praise her beauty.
2. I wrote “at least,” so really, 6/10 was just the bare minimum. Right? Right?
3. Hey, 6/10, that’s a positive number! If asked to rank myself, I surely wouldn’t go any higher than three or four out of both realism or (false) modesty.
Ok, so that’s where I was coming from. As I recall, Liz didn’t really respond to the comment, or made no mention of it, or we got talking about other things. The next day at school I was walking with Morgan, a mutual friend of both Liz and I. Liz’s recent breakup came up, and I brought up our ICQ chat and how Liz was down on herself. Morgan said something like “awww, Lizzie is really cute,” and I said “I tried to tell her that, I even said she was a 6/10.”
At this point Morgan stopped in her tracks and said WHAT. I repeated myself, a little more uncertain this time, and then Morgan slugged me in the arm with such force that I probably need Tommy John surgery. It was essentially a Champ routine — a comment, a PARDON, repeating the comment, then a severe beating. While I was massaging my ruined arm, Morgan was letting me have it about what a five-alarm stupid thing that was to say to a person, and it began to dawn on me (jusssssst a little bit) that I may have made a mistake.
It occurred to me in hindsight (or, perhaps, once Morgan explained it to me while yelling) that I could have simply said “I think you look just fine” and left it at that, since that was all I was trying to say. I certainly didn’t need to stick an actual numeric ranking on the subject, that was a wee error. Really, “just fine” is the definition of 6/10. It’s every 54/40 song, it’s every bowl of Cheerios, it’s every Donovan McNabb season.
So I give myself a 6/10 on good intentions, and a 0/10 on execution. Morgan gets a 10/10 for punching power, as just think, I may be pitching in the major leagues right now had it not been for her vicious (yet not entirely unwarranted) attack. I’ll see her in court.
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