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Sorry, I Didn’t Know You Were Hitting On Me

Sorry, I Didn’t Know You Were Hitting On Me

“Everyone is always hitting on you.” This statement has become commonplace in my roommate’s vocabulary as of late. And before we get too far, it should be noted that I am not ridiculously attractive. Moderately so in the sense of being cute, but definitely not deserving of abnormal amounts of attention. Anyway, the pattern that follows this broken record is me profusely denying it while she tries to justify her reasoning with examples. Then I concede, knowing I won’t win the argument, and we continue our normal conversations of how great a reality show of our lives would be (it’d be hilarious, in case you were wondering).

Now, you may be asking yourself why I am telling you this. Because one would think that this could not possibly be a problem; poor me, people are interested. But the issue comes from the fact that half the time I don’t even know that it’s happening. And just to clarify, I mean in everyday life situations, not drunks at the bar offering free drinks (give me a little credit, I’m not completely ignorant). I’m really not intentionally ignoring guys who are attempting to flirt with me. I’m just basically oblivious in most cases. That being said, I would like to offer an apology to all the gentlemen who I have brushed off, as well as a little justification as to my actions.

You know how people have resting bitch face or resting nice face? I’d like to throw another option into the mix. Approachable face. That is what I have. For some reason, no matter where I am or what I’m doing, everyone thinks I look helpful and like I want to chat it up. Do you need directions or feel the need to comment on something? My face says I would love to accommodate you! This characteristic has apparently welcomed in male attention which I disregard because people are always talking to me.

Along with the aforementioned issue is the fact that I like to talk. A lot. Enough to the point where people don’t think I’m just being nice, but that I’m flirting. That means that if you do happen to come up to me and strike up a conversation, I’ll participate. I know this is not a new concept to complain about, but since when does being polite mean I’m interested? Would you rather I be rude and ignore you? Didn’t think so.

For example, I went to a birthday party with my friend, Vivienne, a few weeks back and met a guy there. Vivienne and I struck up a drunken conversation with said guy and his friends, and we had a lovely time shutting down the bar. Naturally, we all became Facebook friends the next day and almost immediately the guy messaged me. We chatted casually for a few days, no blatant flirting, friend-type stuff. Then out of nowhere, he asked if he could take me to dinner. Of course I wasn’t expecting it, but my roommate rolled her eyes and told me she had been anticipating it sooner since he clearly had been hitting on me all week.

Finally, I also have a habit of assuming that no one is actually interested in dating me. I’m not saying I’m awful or undateable, but I’m still somehow surprised when a guy shows an inclination. Call it lack of confidence or whatever, but living life in the hopes that every man I come across is jonesing for me seems like a waste of time.

As another example, I recently tried to set up my friend with a new guy I met. He was cute, funny and not my type aka perfect for her! That is until a week or so into things when his friend informed me that the guy was actually into me instead. My friend later told me that she knew right away it wasn’t going to go anywhere since she isn’t a blind idiot. Can you see why we’re friends? I appreciate her completely misguided faith in me, but alas, another incident of my ignorance.

So there you have it, guys. Please forgive me for the terrible set of characteristics that have combined to make me blissfully unaware of your intentions. It’s not your fault and I’m sure it’s quite frustrating. And if you come across a lady who happens to share one or more of these unfortunate features, try and cut her some slack. Or you know, be prepared to be insanely blunt and smack her in the face with your intentions.

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Whatever Lola Wants

Unemployed, living with the parents and perfecting the art of the Quarter Life Crisis. Almost as good at avoiding commitment as I am at holding my liquor.

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