Why You Might Think I'm A Bitch. And You Might Be Right.

As it turns out, being under-employed leaves a lot of time for this whole "thinking" business. Self-reflection, pondering the universe and my role in it, what I want to do with my life, how I want to do it. I ponder how people can con through the same thing and have completely different experiences. Perspectives. Perception. Things and stuff. You know.

There have been several moments in my life when a good friend and I would be talking, having coffee, the like, and they would say something along the lines of, "God, when I first met you I though you were a total bitch. I'm really glad I gave you another chance." And I would say, "...thanks?"

So I've spent the last couple of weeks wondering how many friends that I could have had and never did, and how it is that I could be deemed with such a bitch of a first impression. Here are some possibilities that I found amusing, in bullet point form.


I Assume You Don't Remember Me. This is not unfounded, I promise you. I have met the same person (or people) a multitude of times and had to re-introduce myself. Some of my most-loved barristas at the coffee shop I frequent (no, seriously frequent, like every day) have a hard time recognizing me. If I'm in a play with my extra-special-man-friend and this dude, and we're all hanging out in a public place, people who saw the play will approach them and are usually politely reminded by either gentleman that I was also in the show. Now, perhaps said strangers are just trying to be polite because they hated my performance and think I should get the hell off the stage before I damage it anymore, but I prefer to think that they just don't recognize me. As an actor, I try to take it as a compliment. I'm horrible when it comes to talking to strangers anyway. So. If I meet you once, then see you later, I will assume you don't remember me or recognize me, and thereby not say hello. Sadly, if you are one of the few astute people who immediately recognized me and what's to chat, well, I am now to you, a bitch.

Awkward Moments Are (Aren't?) My Strong Suit. I have two tactics when an awkward situation arises. They happen to be the same two tactics I use when conflict arises. No, no, not fight or flight, that would make far too much sense. I either clam up entirely (preferable, in most cases. I don't like to fight, disagree, debate, create tension, people to think I'm a bitch...) or I end up spouting out a wildly inappropriate "joke" (see final bullet). Some defense mechanism. And while to me, I'm just struggling wildly in my mind to divert attention else-where (me making an ass out of myself) it usually ends up backfiring and making me look like... yeah. A bitch.


I Have Terrible Facial-Recognition Skills. I'm convinced that the first bullet point is the penance I have to pay for this. Man, I can't recognize people to save my life. Case in point: The ESMF (that's now short for "Extra-Special-Man-Friend", deal with it) and I threw a dinner party a little over a year ago. We invited many friends from both sides, probably fifteen in total and had a lovely evening, drank lots of wine, chatted until two in the morning and what-have-you. One of the guests was a woman that ESMF had worked with at a restaurant and I'd met her several times before. We chatted and laughed all night. Fast forward to roughly six months later. I was working in a restaurant and it was a very quiet night. One couple sat upstairs and I approached their table to take their drink order. The woman at the table saw me coming and her face lit up and she began asking me how I was, how my ESMF was, what kind of theater we were doing, when she could come and see our next show, etc. I had NO. IDEA. WHO. SHE. WAS. By now you've likely figured that it was the woman I had spent so many hours talking with at the dinner party, but out of context I could not make the connection. I'm sure she knew my state, though I did try to play it off elegantly. It took me three more months to finally make the connection, and boy did I feel like a bitch.

I Swear a Lot. Some people I know consider this a fabulous quality (I've actually been chastised by my mother for substituting "freak" for it's more vulgar option). However, it has recently come to my attention that outside of a fraternity party, not everyone considers a loud (my voice naturally carries, what can I say, it's a gift) string of expletives proper for civilized conversation. Needless to say, I avoid civilized conversation as often as possible.

It's a Rare Lady That I Can Really Connect With. My ratio of friends is very unbalanced. I hang out with a lot of dudes. I like dudes. All of the dude friends I have know I'm taken. They don't tell me how much they wish they could lose weight, I'm not worried that their constantly judging my clothes, manicure, or how I decided to do my make-up and hair that day (chances are, I didn't. Either of them), and they're just plain chill.

Negative Neutral Face. Let's clarify this before we get into it. You know how some people just always look angry? You know those people that you ask "What's wrong?" and they say, "Nothing." but they really mean "nothing" like it caught them off-guard that someone would even ask them that because they're having such a great day? Yeah, that's me. It's not like I walk around town frowning all the time, but we recently moved into an apartment with an elevator that has this giant mirror. I give my building-mates a (what I thought was) sweet little half-smile every time I pass them. I was about to board the elevator one day as a building-mate was getting out of it, so I half-smiled away at them, got into the elevator and caught my reflection. My "half-smile" sort of resembles a grimace. Like something smells really bad. I'm not sure if this is something one is born with or if it's something that developed out of trying to look really tough in high school (I really was a bitch in high school, not in a mean girls way, but in a "why-the-fuck-do-I-have-to-be-surrounded-by-all-these-children" sort of way... that's a post for another day). In any case, I have a sneaking suspicion that negative neutral face may be why I enjoy so many elevator rides alone...

I have this problem that I think I'm funny. Oh boy-howdy do I. To be fair, I will usually self-deprecate for a jokes sake sooner than take the focus elsewhere, but every now and then I'm convinced that I'm so charming and funny that you'll even think the "This is why you're parents are sad they had you." joke I spurt out after you miss that pool shot is hilarious. I will regret it the second it comes out of my mouth, but, as we specified earlier, the way I approach an awkward situation does not lend itself well when coupled with how funny I thought I was a second ago.

So. That's my take on it. I write this, of course knowing that I am fully capable of changing every aspect of this. I'm of the feeling lately, however, that it took me this long to start figuring out who I was that I'm not going to jump and start making changes right away because a few people may misunderstand my relatively respectable intentions in life.