What is it about beauty and fame that makes people become so fucking self-centered?
I’ve been working as a fashion photographer for Hilda’s company for two months now, and not only do I have to deal with obnoxious models at work, I also have to deal with them when I come back home at night to work on the photos I’ve taken of them. Walking into the building every morning is like walking into a sick world of illusion. Those models think they’re stars when they’re anything but. They rely so much on their beauty that they become consumed by it. Also, they’re clueless on how to behave properly it’s irritating. They think they’re entitled to things because of their appearance. In this world however, I guess that’s all that matters. Beauty is everything. Beauty can open doors. Beauty can help you achieve anything you want. And although I can’t stand those stupid basic bitches, I can’t help but understand why they rely solely on what they look like to get ahead in life.
When I was in my twenties, I’ve had multiple offers from sugar daddies and rich businessmen to be their trophy boy. They would pay for all my expenses, let me move into their million dollar mansions, buy me high-end goods and take me to the fanciest, most exclusive restaurants and clubs. However, all of that didn’t come for free. I had to do exactly what they wantedl; I had to adhere to their rules and be sexually available for them at any given moment. It’s like being someone’s slave, but with benefits. I came close to being someone’s sugar baby twice when I was in my late twenties, and I always backed out before making any real commitment because of the fear of being trapped. Since they were the ones paying, they were in total control of the relationship and from what I’ve heard, they expected their kept boys to be at their beck all the time. The last thing I wanted was to be put in a gilded cage. All these men were hoping for was to recapture part of their youth. It’s exactly like going through a mid-life crisis.
The first time the importance of my youth was brought to my attention at a party hosted by Anita Peterson before I got into a platonic relationship with her. I was standing in the back of the room with my back against the wall, slowly sipping $900 champagne when this middle-aged man named Randolph Veldar approached me and started flirting with me. He was drunk and desperate. He introduced himself as a fashion stylist for a luxurious clothing brand and gave me his card. We walked up to the rooftop where he slowly started to get closer to me, touching me, holding my hand, trying to be tender and sweet. He kept talking about the importance of beauty and youth, constantly complimenting my looks, and I was so naïve to tell him they didn’t really matter that much. That’s when he said to me in a serious and firm tone:
“Don’t take your beauty for granted. Embrace it. You’re young and impressionable. One day, it’ll all be gone. If you don’t take advantage of your prime years, you’ll regret it.”
I took his advice and tried to use my beauty and charismatic personality to deceive people and persuade them into giving me what I wanted. Sometimes I succeeded. Other times I was too sloppy and dumb that I would screw things up before reaching my end goal. That said, I’m again pretty much over physical beauty because it’s impossible to keep up with it. At some point, you just want out. But not those models; those are competitively vicious. They’d do anything to get ahead. And I’m so over that. I just can’t stand being around any of them anymore. And Hilda isn’t helping much. I know she’s stressed out because she’s just starting out and is trying so hard to prove herself in the fashion world, but projecting her anxiety onto me isn’t going to make my work any better. Her expectations of what she wants to achieve and the impact she wants to leave on the fashion business are becoming unrealistic week after week. Designers work hard for years to get even the least bit of recognition and she thinks she can obtain the same kind of recognition in just one year. I’ve tried to explain to her that all she can do is stay optimistic while taking things slow, but she just wouldn’t listen. She’s determined she can achieve her goals in a very short period of time, and her pushy and sometimes rude behavior are slowly starting to push me away. I really don’t want to lose her again, but she’s making it so fucking hard not to. Then again she’s always been this way. I still gave her the benefit of the doubt thinking that maybe after all these years she’d become mature enough to see things differently, but I’m afraid that’s how she’ll always be; stubborn, dissatisfied, and unable to put herself in other people’s shoes. She wants things done immediately, even if it’s impossible for me, or anyone else for that matter, to make that happen.
Felix Eberstark 