Roses are Resting Bitch Face

Copyright: <a href=’https://www.123rf.com/profile_evgeniy3030′>Evgeniy Medvedev</a>

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

You don’t know me,

But I know you.

I was coordinating the university blood drive, sitting at a table helping people fill out forms when a boy arrived in front of me with this bastardized clichéd poem. He gazed down at me with his big brown eyes, grinning at his own cleverness and manufactured mystery. In fact, I did know who he was. We hadn’t met, but his name was Diego.

I thought about using a pseudonym just now, but with a suave name like Diego, I just couldn’t do it. He was a friend of a friend and a nice-looking guy — cute, maybe even sexy. But I was not amused. I glared back up at him, tapping my pen impatiently.

Are you going to donate blood?

No, I just wanted to meet you. (flirtatious smile)

Then move out of the way. I’m busy.

I was not playing hard-to-get. When I am intensely focused on something I can be a dick to anyone who interrupts me. It’s a well-known fact in my family. But there was more to it than my annoyance. Diego was not just a gnat buzzing in my ear that I absently swatted away. He represented a larger conflict.

I was a nice kid. When people came up to talk to me, I smiled, listened and made eye contact, even when I was in a hurry or they were interrupting my intense navel-gazing. As I went through puberty, though, this started to backfire. What I considered polite and friendly was taken as flirtation and a promise of something more. Then, I’d get ambushed with some guy’s tongue on my face and he’d act like I’d stolen his lunch money when I pushed him away. Or worse, I’d think I’d made a friend only to discover he didn’t want to hang out with me if friends were all we were going to be.

So I quit being nice. I stopped smiling at people on the shuttle bus, quit making eye contact when a male person asked me an innocent question like, “Does the Pleasant Valley bus stop here?” I had resting bitch face down so pat (before it was even called that) that my ex-husband — who intimidated most people right out of the gate — was afraid to talk to me when he first laid eyes on me. The only time I did let some boy past the barrier was when I was entertaining the idea of making out with him; I had sunken to their expectations.

It became a habit. I didn’t just shut out potentially lecherous guys; I barred the door to everyone. And I did it long after the days of my getting hit on in public spaces were over. I eventually put resting bitch face to rest and became more outwardly friendly again. Still, I had lost the ability to open up, to be myself, to put myself in the position where I could potentially be shoved aside and rebuffed because I wasn’t offering what was wanted.

Luckily, I’m 45 years old and still here, so I have time. I can work on it. I AM working on it, and I’ve already gotten so much better at being vulnerable and making real friends. I’m not sorry I didn’t give Diego more attention 25 years ago, but maybe if I ever run into him again, we can be friends…metaphorically, anyway.

2 thoughts on “Roses are Resting Bitch Face

  1. I have female friends. They are the ones I have no interest in having a sexual relationship with. Today guys are being taught it is not okay to approach a woman. They subscribe to OnlyFan accounts and have fake online relationships with girls who think it is empowering to sell their photos online. It is creating a dysfunctional generation void of traditional values.

    Forty-five-year-old guys women today consider quality men are still chasing the 20 and 30-year-old girls. Average guys willing are walking away, tired of being overlooked.

    So I have to ask you. What do you still have a chance at? What are you trying to achieve?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I have been married (to my second husband) for 14 years now and am happier and more functional in a romantic relationship than I have ever been. The point of this post was that my experience with boys as a young person contributed to my inability to make close friends in adulthood. Now, my goal is to be myself, to not put up those habitual barriers, so I can form authentic, platonic friendships with people (of whatever gender) I connect with. I can’t speak to looking for a partner in today’s world; I have no experience with that.

      Like

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