You told me again you preferred handsome men but for me you would make an exception.  I chuckled awkwardly, wanting to vomit with nerves.  You make me fear you, you make me fear intimacy, you make me fear.  Not that I'm vulnerable, but you're so fucking honest and that's dangerous in a woman.  I don't know how to handle it.  So stand back, maybe I'll vomit.  And you're right I'm not attractive, I don't know if I would even self-label as plain.  Maybe woodsy?  Woodsy seems like an un-sexy rugged and that about sums me up right?  A beard that grows in every which way, eyes that are too close together, a pigeon chest.  What do you see in me?  I distrust every breath you take.  I distrust every sinew wound around your skeleton.  I distrust.  Mistrust?  Distrust, certainly.
 
What's beautiful about a person anyway?  If you pull your lips out with your fingers you can see in a mirror the real shape of your skull.  It's not something you'd seriously want to fuck in that moment.  Skin helps.  We all look like monkeys.  We mostly look like monkeys.  We look at monkeys.  And watch them flirt by pelting each other with fresh shits.  And then do much the same ourselves to each other in the form of anecdote round the office cooler or speed dating and have the nerve to put those fucking monkeys in cages.
 
When you look at me close, lying next to me after sucking purple onto my throat your eyes cross, you are not beautiful.  When in the morning, you wake after another night disappointed by my loss in the fist fight against whiskey dick, and you stumble to the shower wearing one of my t-shirts with your off-white ass and cellulite-stipple on parade, you are not beautiful.  When you're a coarse rough cunt and reveal in an argument your lack of grace as grown on the Jersey shore, though your accent has all but disappeared, then you are not beautiful. 
 
You are beautiful when.  You're beautiful in nature, in lakes particularly swimming in the summer.  You're beautiful reading books.  You're beautiful when you don't call me back.  You're beautiful with a glass of Scotch in your hand.  You're beautiful when you fake it for me and scream like I came a geyser into you and then sleep without bathing.  You are beautiful in paintings.
 
Beauty failed the world.  Like a pearless oyster.  So we have to save the species together, I'll convince you.  Play along.  You, a handsome woman.  Me, your woodsy man.
 
I am not a handsome man, I never was a handsome man, I have done nothing to deserve you.