The 1.2 Rule

They say that a liberal arts education prepares you for "real life" by teaching you how to think. During our time at our beloved Alma Mater, we learned a great deal. However, from Homer to Homi Bhabha, nobody we read and no concept we grappled with has proven quite so valuable and widely applicable in real life as the Rule of 1.2.
The Rule of 1.2, lovingly explained to FAB fairly early freshman year by next door neighbors JC (a physics wunderkind) and SAG (now a neurologist or neuroscientist or something), is simply this: A relationship is unlikely to endure the test of time if one of the parties is 1.2 times more attractive than the other. (However, a relationship can be exempt from the Rule if one of the parties is obscenely wealthy, talented, or otherwise famous. See: Donald Trump and Melania Knauss, Tiger Woods and Elin Nordegren*, Dennis Kucinich and that tall drink of ginger water.) The Rule of 1.2 is actually a pretty basic concept that most of us vaguely or tacitly acknowledge when we think of someone as "out of my league." The difference is that the Rule actually quantifies the difference and locates the exact boundary of where the average Joe or Josephine's league begins and ends, which is 20% more or 20% less attractive than you are.
Obviously, most of us aren't so shallow as to actually choose our partners based on physical attractiveness alone, but what the 1.2 Rule captures is more than just the physical. Let's face it, we are shaped by our experiences. And the down and dirty truth is that the sheer experience of going through the paces of life as someone who is X units conventionally attractive is worlds removed from walking a lifetime in the shoes of someone who is X+10,000 units conventionally attractive. People just treat you differently. Your life experiences and your expectations, conscious are not, are just too different to not, at some point in the relationship, create real and serious baggage. At some point, the awkward suitcase of differential cumulative experience will split open no matter how awesome, confident, witty, and self-actualized you may actually be.
Crass? Yes. But oh so true. So next time you're eyeing that guy or gal across the bar, ask yourself, is he or she in my 1.2? If the answer is no and your name isn't Lebron James, then you might want to consider backing the fuck off.

*Sure, Tiger's not a bad looking dude in the least. But do you seriously think he'd have been able to bag that babe if he was just your average 30-something and not, like, I dunno, maybe the greatest golfer of all time? I mean, really.