[All names have been changed to protect the guilty.]
When I first got back from my most exciting trip to Europe, my SMV took a massive hit. At first, it wasn’t too intensely painful (although for some reason almost all of my successes were either natives of Ireland or ethnically Irish), but soon enough I was almost as “unlucky” as I had ever been. Back to lower beta.
Frank was an actor friend of mine who had recently left Chicago, and it was because of him that I knew, or perhaps I should say knew of, Emma. Emma was a hot and talented little redhead who usually starred with Frank in their local works of theater. Emma was the reason Frank didn’t have to work too hard to get any of us to go to his plays.
My social circle somewhat overlapped with Emma’s, but somehow, every time I went to a party she wasn’t there, or vice-versa.
However, based on the reports of my friends who did actually get to talk to Emma, actually talking to her wouldn’t have done any good. Not only did she always have a boyfriend, she had an eternal crush on Frank. To everyone’s astonishment, Frank stayed loyal to his relatively plain girlfriend while everyone else just stood back and drooled. Emma was inaccessible.
But somehow, some way, I got invited to a cast party at a bar, and Emma was there. I talked to her, but because I considered her so far out of reach, I wasn’t worried about messing things up. We got along. Within a few days she was going to visit her boyfriend in New York before heading to California to pursue her big screen dreams. I told her we should hang out before she goes, she agreed, and a couple of days later we met up at this quasi-bar I knew on the North Side.
So we’re there, still pretty sober, talking about whatever, and the conversation drifts to her move to California. Here’s where the test begins:
Martel: So how do you think things’ll go out there?
Emma: I’m really worried about the competition. I know that I can really act, but so many of the girls out there as so beautiful, I don’t know how I’ll ever compete.
Martel: What are you talking about? You’re gorgeous.
Emma: Compared to some of them out there, no way. I’m just–
Martel: Don’t be a dumbass. Depending on your expression or the light at any given instant, you can go from pretty girl-next-door to exotic siren to classic beauty and back again. You’re like the perfect mix biology and art.
Emma: But out there they’re so–
Martel. Yeah, I’m sure they’re hot. Whatever. You’re a knockout, but you’re being an idiot so I’m changing the subject. So when you’re trying to get roles in commercials or whatever, do they have a theater scene out there, or how does that work?
Emma: Ummmm, I’m not really sure how that works, yet. My friend Stacy out there says that…
Blah. Blah. Blah. The End.
Now, for the first time ever, an Alpha Is Assumed poll:
(I obviously can’t force you, but please answer for only the category that fits you.)