"Can I be honest with you? Don't take this the wrong way, but when I first met you, I thought you were a total snob. But now that I've gotten to know you, you're actually so nice and fun to be around," said pretty much every friend I've ever had, like, ever.
I'm not sure what it is about me that makes people so compelled to tell me how much they disliked me at first, but I try not to get wrapped up in it--smile, nod and change the subject. Thanks, I guess?
I thought back to that very first interaction with the latest person who claims to have really despised me until they suddenly wanted to BFFs, and I don't really remember saying much. In fact, I rarely say anything at all when I first meet someone. I get really anxious around new people and tend to be really quiet in unfamiliar situations. I check my phone, I don't make much eye contact, and I tend to cling on to the people I know; or if I feel anxious that I'm coming off as too clingy, I hang around the bar or wherever the drinks are. Liquid courage, y'all.
The thing is, I'm so wrapped up in trying to be normal and comfortable that I'm hardly giving a crap about being rude to someone. But even if I'm being as sweet as can be, I still have one thing working against me: I have "bitchface."
I've been afflicted with chronic bitchface for as long as I can remember. The first time a girl said to me "You know, I really don't like you, but now that we have to work on this project together, I'm having so much fun with you," was in the third grade. I was eight.
Bitchface starts early, y'all. Like really early. Exhibit A:
I asked my mom if I was a pain-in-the-ass child, but surprisingly, I wasn't much of a brat. She said I was mostly quiet and very pensive--sometimes so much so that I made her uncomfortable. Bitchface in full effect.
I try not to take the issue to heart because it's my face--deal with it. I could try to fake-smile my way through life, but that would just be creepy. I also don't feel the need to change my face to make people like me. If there are people that are offended by my default expression, then so be it. I probably don't want to talk to you, anyway.
I know I'm not the only one. One of my best friends from college has bitchface, too, but she's one of the kindest people I know. It's a serious affliction. We need a support group.
Even though my bitchface has barred me from making some friends, it has also worked in my favor from avoiding sketchy guys. Apparently my bitchface makes me unapproachable by douchebags because I "look mean." There's a silver lining to every dilema, I guess.
Do you have bitchface, too? Do you think bitchface makes someone seem less attractive?