Sometimes, Nice Adjectives are Creepy

There's a certain way that socially awkward people tend to hit on other people. Being an admittedly socially awkward nerd, I know this. I've been guilty of it a few times--mostly in my head.

Mostly.

And sometimes it comes out charming. Sometimes, though, it just comes out downright creepy. I generally get the creepy variety. I'm not sure if it's because I'm just not physically attracted to the guys who pay me these compliments, or if it's the way they say them. . .

My stories are a lot milder than some of my friends'. One of my best friends (and separated-at-birth-siamese-twin) Kate has about five thousand stories about guys hitting on her that she can tell at any given moment. It's  a fabulous party trick.

She's the pretty one.
FYI, costumes are so much fun.

I have my fair share of weird stories, though. And the most recent one occurred a few weeks ago. 

So I work at a chocolate shop. It's kind of a party, as you would think working at a chocolate shop is. I've definitely learned the meaning of the words self control, because if I eat too much chocolate (yes, there IS such a thing) I either get a major caffeine high and feel sick, or generally just feel icky. Anyway, one day when I was working, this guy came in. Thirties, kind of had the appearance of not having left the man-cave or put down the XBox controller in a while. And he promptly started flirting with me. 

Learn something about me #2: I am TERRIBLE at recognizing when people are flirting with me. Generally it's a delayed "oh. . .that was flirting" reaction, sometimes hours after the time of the flirtation.  Unless the guy in question is basically winking at me or making some sort of excuse to touch some extremity of my body, I walk around with my head in the clouds. I'm equally terrible at actually flirting myself, because unless the guy has initiated the flirtation, I have a hard time beginning a flirtatious conversation. Flirting for me usually comes out as something mundane about trees or library books. Hell, sometimes flirting comes out as a lengthy discussion of the nature of life or religion or literature. I have even been known to flirt talking by about Hitchcock movies. That actually sort of worked, once, but it hasn't worked much since. 

Yeah. I'm smooth as silk, over here. 

This guy was flirting with me for a solid five minutes before he delivers the line that makes me realize, oh,  he's flirting with me, and I immediately got intensely uncomfortable because I wasn't attracted to him, and I didn't know how to respond.

Anyway. What he said was, "do you make your chocolate with love?" Which took me so aback that all I could manage was, "yes, I think AJ (my boss) makes the chocolate with love." He laughed, but sort of in the disappointed way that people do when they say something they think is clever and it sort of just falls flat on its face. That was the moment the lightbulb went off in my head. Yes, then. 

I immediately started feeling sort of guilty and bad, because I don't like making people feel bad. He continued to talk to me as I was weighing the cacao beans he wanted to buy. I think the conversation went something like this:

Guy: So I'm going to ComicCon FanX tomorrow. 

Me (weighing beans, avoiding eye contact): Oh, nice. I went yesterday. 

Guy: Oh?! Who did you go as? I bet you went as Wonder Woman, didn't you? 

Me (floundering): No, actually, I went as Peggy Carter. From Captain America. You know.

Guy: That's cool! You should go as Wonder Woman. You'd be a great Wonder Woman.

Me: . . .Oh? 

Guy: Yeah. You're very statuesque. 

Me: Um. . .thanks? I don't think anyone's ever used that word to describe me. . .before. . .

Guy: Really? People should. Well, you'd make a great Wonder Woman. I've got a feeling about you.

Ah, those words. I've heard them a few times before when guys have hit on me, and it usually results in uncomfortable stretches of days in high school and a sudden, unexpected invitation to Homecoming. Which I turned down. I know. I'm a horrible person. 

And don't worry. That story in full is on the list of things I'm planning on blogging about. 

So basically, he bought his stuff, and said "I'll be back in to see you sometime." 

All I could do after he left was sit on the couch, feeling vaguely indignant and gross. There was nothing inherently wrong with the way he talked to me, except that people only use the word statuesque to describe busty heroines of romance novels, and while I've got a bit of a chest on me, I am definitely no romance novel heroine. I felt creeped out, though. 

It's true what people say. Grand romantic gestures, flattery, or flirtation can feel gross or awesome depending on who it's coming from. It's just a fact. 

But for the record--please don't ever call me statuesque. It just--yuck. It's not actually a nice adjective. It's objectifying, literally. "You are as a statue." Statues are beautiful, but I'm flesh and blood, and a feminist (yes, more on that later too), and while he definitely thought he was being nice. . .

I suppose being able to read people factors into that, too. And we nerds are not always super adept at that. 

Anyway. That's the story of Statuesque Guy, and also the reason why sometimes, supposedly nice adjectives are gross.