In which a post about a piece of furniture morphs into self-reflection.
I have acquired a couch! With a foldout bed, no less. Also a low roll-y table, so if former coworker J. from NY ever comes over again, she won't have to repeat her declaration that it's weird to have the TV on the floor. This is all thanks to someone a few floors down from me whose flier for a moving sale I saw after work, who let me browse through the pickings, and who then offered to help me move these up here. Really nice guy. In our trips to and from the elevator, puffing and hefting the couch, I learned that he has lived in Boston and NYC too, and when he saw Star Wars on my DVD shelf he said that's the movie that made him go into filmmaking.
Man, I have lucked out in this building. The guy I sublet from last summer; the guy whose lease I took over; my former neighbor; my current neighbor; and now this guy -- all strangers -- all very sweet people. This despite the building managers continuing to act, to use the vernacular, like douchebags.
After I'd paid him (more than he'd asked, because seriously, he saved me a lot of work) and he'd gone, I sent a quick thank-you email. When he wrote back, he added, "I hope this isn't out of line, but I just wanted you to know I thought you were really cute. :)" Which, plus couch, made my evening. *happy smile*
I don't know if "cute" means "fun and likable in a romantic way" or "want to ruffle your hair because, like everyone else, I think you look and/or talk like you're high school-aged instead of almost thirty," but I'll take it. I have never been and never will be someone who gets called "hot." Some people are beautiful; some are pretty; some are not. Fact of life. I have a crooked nose, a small chin, dry-red cheeks, puffy lips, and a hormone imbalance that leaves me dealing with facial hair. That isn't to say I don't like a lot of things about myself, physical or otherwise, etc., but I am long used to not being noticed or desired for how I look -- or desired at all, when I don't know someone first. I was not, until late in my college years, even good at picking up on or assessing that kind of attention from others. (And yes, that was after having dated my only serious boyfriend so far. I could tell you comedies about first kisses and such.) On the rare occasions when strangers have complimented me for something physical, I've suspected they were either being nice (i.e. the cashier in the mini-mart who has kind things to say to everyone) or betting they could get lucky because as someone who's not pretty & therefore not used to the attention I would be grateful for their interest. So, long story long, it startles me now when I get comments like this.
And it shouldn't, because it's happening more frequently. Or at least I'm noticing it more. Four or five times since I've moved down here, if I'm remembering right. One of which would have been great if it hadn't turned out the guy had had a girlfriend. The others of which were one-sided, and not on my side.
One just happened this weekend, when I was just trying to make conversation with the people sitting on either side of me before the event we were attending started, and I ended up talking to a guy about shared interests for a few minutes afterwards -- which, both because I thought it might be useful to know his name as someone whose career is related to mine and because I didn't know a graceful way to decline exchanging email addresses, turned into him emailing me the next day with a slew of invites to events this week. I'm flattered, but no; and replied kindly but firmly to that effect. See, now, the elderly woman on my other side that night knew how to do it properly: we made small talk, and when the event was over she gave me a polite smile and left. This guy took my small talk as interest of a particular kind.
I guess I'm going to have to get used to that, and figure out how to be careful. If I should have to be careful. I mean, not careful -- I'm always careful -- but figure out if it's my responsibility to not make lively small talk with strangers because it might be construed as flirting, and if so, where the tipping point is (I mean, it gets kind of ridiculous -- don't laugh? don't smile? leave at the first possible opportunity even if you're talking about something interesting? It's not like I'm putting my hand on someone's shoulder and batting my eyelashes and twirling my hair), or if it's just crossed signals from time to time and no harm done.
I've always been ahead of the curve intellectually and behind the curve socially. Once again, I find myself saying: Oh. So this is what it's like to be a grown-up.
Man, I have lucked out in this building. The guy I sublet from last summer; the guy whose lease I took over; my former neighbor; my current neighbor; and now this guy -- all strangers -- all very sweet people. This despite the building managers continuing to act, to use the vernacular, like douchebags.
After I'd paid him (more than he'd asked, because seriously, he saved me a lot of work) and he'd gone, I sent a quick thank-you email. When he wrote back, he added, "I hope this isn't out of line, but I just wanted you to know I thought you were really cute. :)" Which, plus couch, made my evening. *happy smile*
I don't know if "cute" means "fun and likable in a romantic way" or "want to ruffle your hair because, like everyone else, I think you look and/or talk like you're high school-aged instead of almost thirty," but I'll take it. I have never been and never will be someone who gets called "hot." Some people are beautiful; some are pretty; some are not. Fact of life. I have a crooked nose, a small chin, dry-red cheeks, puffy lips, and a hormone imbalance that leaves me dealing with facial hair. That isn't to say I don't like a lot of things about myself, physical or otherwise, etc., but I am long used to not being noticed or desired for how I look -- or desired at all, when I don't know someone first. I was not, until late in my college years, even good at picking up on or assessing that kind of attention from others. (And yes, that was after having dated my only serious boyfriend so far. I could tell you comedies about first kisses and such.) On the rare occasions when strangers have complimented me for something physical, I've suspected they were either being nice (i.e. the cashier in the mini-mart who has kind things to say to everyone) or betting they could get lucky because as someone who's not pretty & therefore not used to the attention I would be grateful for their interest. So, long story long, it startles me now when I get comments like this.
And it shouldn't, because it's happening more frequently. Or at least I'm noticing it more. Four or five times since I've moved down here, if I'm remembering right. One of which would have been great if it hadn't turned out the guy had had a girlfriend. The others of which were one-sided, and not on my side.
One just happened this weekend, when I was just trying to make conversation with the people sitting on either side of me before the event we were attending started, and I ended up talking to a guy about shared interests for a few minutes afterwards -- which, both because I thought it might be useful to know his name as someone whose career is related to mine and because I didn't know a graceful way to decline exchanging email addresses, turned into him emailing me the next day with a slew of invites to events this week. I'm flattered, but no; and replied kindly but firmly to that effect. See, now, the elderly woman on my other side that night knew how to do it properly: we made small talk, and when the event was over she gave me a polite smile and left. This guy took my small talk as interest of a particular kind.
I guess I'm going to have to get used to that, and figure out how to be careful. If I should have to be careful. I mean, not careful -- I'm always careful -- but figure out if it's my responsibility to not make lively small talk with strangers because it might be construed as flirting, and if so, where the tipping point is (I mean, it gets kind of ridiculous -- don't laugh? don't smile? leave at the first possible opportunity even if you're talking about something interesting? It's not like I'm putting my hand on someone's shoulder and batting my eyelashes and twirling my hair), or if it's just crossed signals from time to time and no harm done.
I've always been ahead of the curve intellectually and behind the curve socially. Once again, I find myself saying: Oh. So this is what it's like to be a grown-up.