A man's love

Why must a man love like he is a beast looking for his beauty? Why, as a female born human, must I be the beauty to the beast, nothing but a pretty face and a smile. What if the beast's beauty was not born with a pretty face, what must she do then? All the women I see with this case only try to be beautiful every day until they die, their hunger is never satisfied, always in a war with oneself, trying to please anyone. Is it so bad that I do not want to comply? Is it so bad that I do not simply want to be a beauty? It's not that I want to be the beast, but I want to be considered by my male partner as a human, as a partner, not merely a pretty picture, which I will never even be. So politely, I refuse to go to the war of beauty, I surrender so early in my life, to not wanting to please men with paint on my skin and plastic in my blood. Will I ever find a man who loves me?