I don't believe I'm ugly. I don't think I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, either. I believe that looks only matter to the person they matter to. One Halloween, about 6 or 7 years ago, I went to a party with my cousin and, while standing in line, I discovered this guy who seemed absolutely smitten wit me. I wore an ankle-length Chinese cheongsam, blue with gold and pink detail, buttoned up to the neck, and flat shoes. My long hair was in a bun with chopsticks sticking out of it. He was a sheik. While standing in line he stared at me, but it wasn't a confused looking stare, it seemed to be an intrigued stare. He chatted me up about everything, literally, and I became intrigued. Once inside the party, he found me sitting with my cousins wallflower friend and he sat and chatted me up some more. I discovered that he was one of the party-giver's/hosts.  He bought us drinks and finally asked for my phone number. I gave it to him, utterly intrigued by this man who seemed captivated by me. For no other reason than that he was so open and captivated, I was interested. Then, as the night progressed, feeling confident and lovely, I saw a guy dressed as a mail carrier and he was just my type. I tend to gravitate towards a certain look and he had it. So I smiled at him and he frowned at me. Ha. I didn't give up so easily though, the sheik had given me a bit of bravery and self confidence. I felt like a live wire. So when the mailman came outside and stood right next to me smoking a cigarette, I took it as a sign, I tried to strike up a conversation. He looked at me with disgust, though. Not at all like the sheik had stared at me. He damn sure didn't see what the sheik saw. So, deflated a bit at having struck out, I shrugged it off, albeit a little perplexed because I didn't know then what I know now, and went to check on my cousins wallflower friend. She wanted to go home and asked me to walk her to her car, so I did. And on my walk back to the party, a guy hanging from a moving vehicle yelled out at me "CONEECHEEWAH!" I laughed and when I'd finally made my way back to the party, he introduced himself to me. We danced, he made me laugh some more, he was fun, so I wrote my number down on a napkin for him (this was all an experiment folks) and then I turned around and looked directly into the sheiks eyes. Whoops! This time, he didn't look happy. He never said anything about it, he just took my hand and lead me out to the patio where the mailman had rejected me. Feeling confident and playful, I wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me, and we walked outside as a unit. Shortly after that, we heard a bit of commotion going on inside the party. It sounded like someone was fighting. I was naturally concerned, but the sheik didn't seem phased at all. He acted like he hadn't heard the yelling and screaming and kept trying to turn my attention back to him. Then, suddenly, my Blackinese suitor, the guy I'd written my number on a napkin for, came running directly past me with a bloody face. He looked absolutely terrified as he hopped the wall behind me and fled. I was absolutely terrified, ready to find my cousin and do the same, lol. But, just like that, the bouncers went back inside and the party resumed as though nothing had happened. The sheik looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face this time and proceeded to tell me about his wives in Morocco and how it's customary in his culture for a man to have multiple wives. I don't really think I have to tell you that after that night, I had no plans of ever speaking to that man again. But it's interesting to me how beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I've been complimented in the best ways based on my appearance, and rejected based on it as well. Que sera sera?