(submitted by: @Anonymous)
These questions are depressingly complicated, so you’re only getting an answer because I’m high as fuck and the words are flowing.
I know how you dumb bitches think… even the ones who aren’t, in fact, dumb bitches. You’re the sort to hear what a man prefers and process it as an ambient demand. You take a stranger’s randomly stated and generally meaningless taste in body types —one that in this case is heavily modulated by the buyer’s market in which he exists— as one more cut among the thousands you’ve stubbornly lived through. And if you’re a particular sort of girl, you might even despair.
All of which is an unnecessary and frankly rude intrusion of your little girl neuroses upon my casual thought process, but I forgive you, because I love you.
So, noting for clarity that:
- Preference is not necessity.
- The things I prefer are often a subset of things I value.
- What I like doesn’t matter unless you need to be what I like.
- Yes, I know you like it when I’m patronizing. Fortunately, it’s a taste we share.
And thus… after much deliberation I can say that I prefer whatever body was attached to Florence Pugh’s face in Black Widow. Just… that. All of that. The totality of that-ness. The gestalt of Pugh.
So what if you’re not that hot? Well, you work to get that way, obviously. And if you can’t get that hot no matter how you try —because of gravity or a misfortune of parentage— then you find other ways to excel. You make the most of what you are, because you know I deserve your best.
Useful girls look awfully cute when you squint.