Kat’s Adventures in Dating: The 6 out of 10

I met Gary on OKCupid when I was living in Albuquerque. He was a pharmacist and a bodybuilder, and one of my friends knew him. 

“He’s got a real thick South Valley accent,” she told me, “but other than that, he’s cool.” 

We chatted back and forth on Google Chat for a while and went out on a date – dinner and drinks, probably. We had some chemistry but didn’t kiss goodnight. He even brought up his accent.

“I sound like a real mocho,” he said. 

(He did. I’m fine with accents. Generally like them, in fact.) 

I invited him to come to a movie at the Southwest Gay and Lesbian Film Fest with me, since I’d gotten free passes. He agreed.

“If a ‘very adult’ movie about lesbians doesn’t make him want to make out with me, nothing will,” I joked with a friend after reading the description of the film we were set to see.

We went to the movie and didn’t end up making out. Partly because he explained to me over drinks afterward about his rating system for women.

I was intrigued. A rating system? For women? I asked for more information.

He explained it was a logarithmic scale from 1-10. But women didn’t understand it and I probably wouldn’t “get it”. I told him I understood how logarithmic scales worked. He said again that I probably still wouldn’t understand it. 

10 was the best, obviously, but you’d have to be exponentially better than a 9 to be a 10. (#math) Anything over 5 was above average, but again, you’d have to be way better than average to hit a 6. 

“Well, what am I, then?” I asked.

“No way am I going to tell you that,” he said.

And we went back and forth like this for a while – him telling me that I wouldn’t understand it, me explaining that I did (probably more than he did, in hindsight – because I know what it means when a man has a “rating scale” for human beings), and finally, he told me.

“I’d give you a 6 out of 10,” he said.

I think I laughed.

“Ok,” I said.

“It’s above average,” he told me. 

“Right,” I said.

“Because it’s not linear,” he went on. “Like a 5 would be a C average, so a 6 is like a B-.”

I nodded that I understood, and eventually I got to change the subject.

I let it go. And we said goodnight (still no kiss).

But the next day, I messaged him.

“I totally understand your system,” I said, “but I’m still not cool with it.”

“I knew it,” he wrote back, “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, no, I get it,” I responded. 

“A six is above average,” he said, “like an 82 on a test. I’d give myself a 7.”

A 7? I thought. Him? And me a 6?

“I’d give you a 72,” I said.

After some back and forth with him reiterating that I really didn’t understand it, and me insisting I did, but that the concept was the problem, and the principle, which was something he didn’t understand, we decided to part ways.

Here’s the thing:

1. Having a “rating system” for any human being on a personal level is gross. I get that dating can feel like a job interview. But there’s no such thing as an objective scale that ranks how “good” or “bad” or “fit” or “hot” people are. And don’t ever let anyone tell you that there is. 

2. If you must have a rating system, and you must talk about it, and if you’re going to tell a woman you want to date where she falls on your rating system, you always say she’s a 10. Period.

3. You definitely don’t ever tell someone you want to date that you think you rate higher than them on your imaginary rating system.

Verdict: We never spoke again, but I think somehow he convinced some poor woman to marry him. I hope she’s at least a 4 so she can be better than him. 

Bonus: Here’s my standup set where I talk about being a 7/10. (Sorry the last 45 seconds cut off.)