So, on Valentine’s Day, I had the headache from hell and walked to Rite-Aid from work so I could take something. I figured with the pain and light sensitivity, walking was better than driving. As I’m walking out of Rite-Aid with my Tylenol Cold & Sinus in hand, a guy standing on the other side of the sidewalk with a couple other guys calls out “Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby!” I smile, reply “Hey, happy Valentine’s Day,” while continuing on my way. He asks for my number. Still smiling, I shake my head and continue. “Do you want mine?” “Sorry, married.” He laughs. “Keep walking, girl. Homey don’t play that.” He wishes me a happy valentine’s day again, I do the same, and off I go, laughing.
From that, we learn that it’s possible to hit on random women without being a jerk about it. Not for a moment did I feel violated, creeped out, or threatened. (The whole actually taking “no” for an answer helped, of course, and his tone read to me much more as “random friendliness” than “creepy and intimidating.”)
Randomly being hit on when I’m out walking has happened to me maybe four times in my life, and I always find it weird. Partly because I’m used to thinking of myself as the fat chick nobody wants to look at, much less date. Ironically, I felt this way most when I was a size 14 or 16, ie, not all that fat. But, well, high school sucked, and having friends and dating in college didn’t exactly resolve those self-esteem issues.
But anyway, even moreso now that I’m really truly fat, I always think “Is random person hitting on me because he thinks I’m cute, or because he sees a fat chick and figures I have no self-esteem and am easy?” Or as a joke, like the [seventeen expletives] guy who asked me to dance in high school, on a fricking bet. Thanks, dude. Not that it should matter, because random guy’s opinion is totally irrelevant, but it does a little bit. Partly because it brings back memories of junior high school, where saying “You have a crush on Kelly” was an insult of epic proportions. And partly because of just general insecurity.
So, yeah, simple interactions become overly complicated in my head, because I’m always wondering. I do like Michelle‘s advice to stay out of other people’s heads–what people think about you isn’t your business until they choose to make it your business, and it really isn’t your problem either.
I’ve also determined that in general, what random “can I have your number?” guy is thinking when they say something to me doesn’t matter. If they think I’m cute, hey, random compliments are always good. If they assume fat chick = easy, well, not only are they wrong, but they’re not getting laid as a result of this encounter, while I get to go home to my sexy husband. Win for me. And if it’s a joke on me, I still win by not being hurt. (If they’re creepy and obnoxious about it, I may be pissed off, but that’s a whole different thing. And that doesn’t touch my self-esteem, it just brings out my inner bitch, and I probably go blog or LJ post about what a creepy jerk they guy was.)