I started thinking today about the anomaly of why we find some old, ruined things beautiful, but not others. I absolutely love the weathered time-worn look of old crumbling ruins from antiquity, but interestingly enough, old, weathered time-worn men are not usually ones to turn my head. In both scenarios— an elderly man and an old, decrepit, architectural column— they are both past their prime in terms of utility and function, but one I find attractive and the other I do not.

It got me to thinking about sexual attraction in general, and how there is a sweet spot in terms of age that is generally considered sexy and attractive. That age span seems to coincide with when a human being is in its peak physical form, in terms of functionality. A prepubescent boy doesn’t yet have the musculature or strength of a man, and is therefore outside the range of peak utility. Similarly, much like a prepubescent girl, he cannot yet perform sexually in a procreation capacity— which is another missing utility. Conversely, in old age, as muscles are lost, as well as the ability to perform sexually, a human being has left the sweet spot of peak functionality, and therefore our (or my) attraction to them is diminished.

On a mental level this is true as well, with children being underdeveloped in an intellectual capacity, and then the elderly, too, as they begin to become slower and and begin to lose much of what they once knew. It points, again, to the idea that we are attracted to human specimens the most, when they fall into the realm of peak utility.

So what is going on with me and ancient ruins? Have you ever seen an artist’s rendering of what the Greek and Roman temples probably would have looked like when they were all pristine and new and hospital-white?

Ugh! They’re hideous! Gaudy! Upsetting!

When I see one of those visualizations, it is always a tad disturbing to me, even though - technically - the pillars’ utility and purpose has been returned to them. I realize that every time I am at a historical site of ancient ruins, my mind has been filling in the missing pillars and other elements as if they were all going to match the beautifully weathered ones that are there still standing in front of me. I forget that they would have all been a pristine and alabaster white, more closely resembling the columns of a suburban McMansion than the crumbling, fairytale-vibe that my imagination always extrapolates. How disappointing.

But therein lies a partial explanation, I think, as to why I like old ruins but not necessarily old men. It is the same reason I usually prefer books to movies. When I’m reading, my imagination fills in everything exactly as I want it to be. There is never any bad acting or miscasting when I’m reading because I can control that. Why would I imagine bad acting or a bunch of crappily designed creatures?

I wouldn’t.

In a movie, many of those decisions have already been made for me, and oftentimes, they are not the choices I would have made myself. Similarly, an elderly man, sitting right in front of me, is a very real thing, and too many choices have already been made. When looking at ancient ruins and the remnants of a primeval society, I think part of the appeal is the unknown. Without any firsthand knowledge or photographic proof, my imagination still feels at liberty to extrapolate the buildings into whatever I so choose, my own personal version of perfection.

And just like with the actors in a book, there are no bad buildings in my mind. If I want all the pillars to be inexplicably ancient looking, even though the structures are whole and new, so be it!

Needless to say, in my mind, the whole ancient society is also populated only with sexy, strapping, young men ages 21-45 years old, even though I suspect that might not be entirely accurate either.

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Check out these REALLY COOL OLD PILLARS too while you're at it!