I think I’m an average-looking guy. If it’s last call, the lights are low, and you’re scanning the room for a potential partner for the night, you could definitely do better than me – but you could also do A LOT worse. My teeth are straight. I shower regularly. I own roughly two pairs of nice shoes. My haircut is neither on-trend nor overly offensive. I will not tickle your fancy, but you would allow me to stand adjacent to your fancy. My mother will tell you I am a nice boy with a great personality – the ultimate telltale sign of where I am slotted on the attractiveness totem pole.
This largely translated to my surfing. No one ever approached me in the parking lot to compliment me on doing a bang-average job. In fact, unless I had a brand new board, no one really noticed I existed. And even then, all it amounted to was some random dude saying “New board? Sick!” And that was that. I could come and go from the water as I pleased. Just another black wetsuit bobbing in the sea. An unremarkable surfing pedestrian.