This essay was originally written as a commentary for WKSU-FM.
It aired in October 18, 2000.

This commentary also aired (in a shorter form) on public radio business program Marketplace on November 27th, 2000. You can hear it there as well.

I'm sitting at work the other day when I receive an e-mail from a friend - the kind of message I abhor - telling me about a Web site I absolutely had to visit. Usually, I just ignore these messages, but her description of the horrors that awaited proved too tempting to resist. The site was amihotornot.com. The premise is incredibly simple: you visit the site, it shows you photos submitted by other visitors, and your rate their "hot-ness" on a scale of 1-to- 10. That's it. No names, no cities or hobbies, no chat rooms or e-commerce opportunities. They show you a picture, you rate it, and the next picture appears.
The problem is - it's totally addictive. And it's not just me, every person I've shared the site with has reported a similar affliction. Men, women, person after person - laying it on the cyber-line for your cold, callous evaluation of their attractiveness.

I wondered: is this what the information superhighway is all about? The technology revolution? The new economy? Complete strangers rating each other's attractiveness like a huge cyber-ladies' night? Is this what Al Gore had in mind when he invented the Internet?

As I started roaming through this mass of submitted images, I noticed how much effort people were putting into their photos. People did all they could to look as "attractive" as possible: cliche poses, snazzy outfits, industrial strength hair and make-up. An Asian-looking woman posed with her three mangy cats and one gentleman even digitally-inserted a pair of angel's wings behind his chest-puffing pose and mullet haircut. How heartrending - that these people are in such need of validation that they'll post personal photos in the vain hope they'll get a higher rating than a bespeckled teenager in her prom dress.

Then I started to wonder - how would I fare in this vicious cycle of "hotness" rating. I had a snappy photo laying around, originally taken for my book jacket, and figured it was a fair representation of me. When I informed a female friend about my quest, she tried to talk me out of using that particular photo. "That's a posed shot - indoors," she said. "I'd place you at least a point higher if you were outside amongst nature."

I decided to add that to the list of feminine quirks I'll never understand - how my sex appeal can be affected by my proximity to a tree.

Nonetheless, I posted my photo and eagerly waited for the ratings to come pouring in. When you submit a photo, you're asked to give yourself a predicted rating on the 1 to 10 scale of "hotness." I'm no Richard Gere, but I'm no Al Roker either. I figured I'd come in somewhere around a "six." Once I'd posted my photo, I started to check in more regularly than a daytrader watching their ticker when tech stocks starts sucking wind. You can imagine my surprise when my "hottie" rating came in at - a 3.2. A 3.2? Certainly I deserved better than that. Even the guy with the wings rated a full half-point higher.

I became obsessed - checking almost hourly to see how the next few dozen ratings would affect my average. The highest I ever got was a 3.6.

Next time, I'm posing next to a fern.