Dial it Up

True beauty is a weapon

My favorite form of female beauty is the kind that looks pretty, but accessible, in jeans and a t-shirt, or in a oversized Norwegian sweater, but goes nuclear when weaponized.

It was amusing a few years back when I was at a tech-investment conference in Barcelona. A really beautiful Swedish woman who was with one of the investment companies was there, and when I was introduced to her, she clearly could not have been less interested in talking to me. I was, in her opinion, just another random man at the conference.

Which was fine, of course. But that night, there were cocktails and a formal dinner, and Spacebunny rolled into the city to join me at the extraordinary venue, as did many of the various wives and girlfriends. She was wearing a red dress, she was appropriately dolled-up for the occasion, and it is not an exaggeration to say that she looked spectacular. Not pretty, not beautiful, a living, breathing spectacle. And she was, quite visibly, the only woman there who could offer legitimate competition to the Swedish woman.

The amusing thing was the way that the Swedish woman, who had not been even remotely interested in talking to me earlier, made a beeline for us once it was obvious that Spacebunny was with me, and engaged us in conversation. It was apparent that she decided she had misjudged me and my potential importance on the basis of the woman who was there with me.

Women know that beauty is a weapon and a status-indicator. The smart ones know when the time is right to utilize it.