Made Of Fail Part Five: The It-Shaped Hole

Given that I’ll be heading home to Michigan on Thursday for my nephew Jeremy’s graduation, and will likely not be posting much, I thought I should post something substantive while I’m still here.
After failing to come up with anything remotely like that, I’ve decided to post the latest in the never-popular Made of Fail series.
Enjoy!

“It.”
A simple, monosyllabic word that is able to convey so much meaning and significance.
As in those eBay commercials from a few years back, “it” can be anything that we want it to be, or can be anything that we want.
The “it” I’m talking about, is that ineffable, unquantifiable, impossible to define “it,” the quality in another that makes you want to be near that person always (or at least for a little while).
The mysterious spark that ignites attraction that you can’t put a name to, yet cannot deny, that aura of quality that makes you stand up and take notice.
While there is no way to really isolate or define it, there is one thing of which we can be certain: whatever it is, I don’t have it.
I’ve said in the past that when it comes to attractive qualities, I’m rather like an options package without a car. There is much about who I am that is worthwhile, useful, and, yes, even attractive, but that one essential component is missing, as though there is an it-shaped hole in my personality.


Are you looking at my It Hole?

This is, of course, why I have so often found myself in the position of “guy friend,” that all-around great guy who’s funny and smart and a great listener, but is also the absolute last person you’d ever consider actually getting romantically involved with, because he just doesn’t have it.
There are a million names for it: animal magnetism, poise, confidence, charisma, to name just a few.
One thing they all have in common is that they are not words that spring to mind when you think of Jon, unless, you know, you’re thinking, “Boy, Jon sure doesn’t have any animal magnetism, poise, confidence, or charisma.”
If you’ve ever looked at someone who’s doing well for himself on the romantic front and found yourself asking, “What does he have that I haven’t got?”
Here’s your answer: he has it.
Such an answer seems like a cheat, but really, you can’t honestly define it, not in any really useful or widely-applicable way, at least.
And if you don’t have it, there’s no way to acquire it, no matter how many Smoove B columns you read.
You have it or you don’t. It’s a simple and as profound as that.
It really is impossible to define simply because it is different for everyone. There are as many forms of it as there are people.
Well, as many forms of it as there are people minus one.
I’m sure there are those of you who will argue that the fact that I’ve yet to meet someone who’s looking for the it that I have to offer does not mean that I don’t have it. You can try to convince me of that, and I’ll try not to make a dismissive jerking-off motion while you do.
(Though I have to admit that I make no promises on that score.)
I know, I know; there’s someone for everyone and I just to have faith and patience and believe in myself and blah blah blah, but as you’re saying that, I can’t help but notice that you’re staring at my It Hole…which sounds dirty, I know.
Still, lacking any kind of it that could inspire them, I’ll take whatever even remotely lascivious looks I can get.