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My resting bitch face serves as a human repellent. Only I’m not a stuck up bitch, I’m just awkward as hell. Every time I see someone looking at me or walking my way, I think to myself: “Please don’t talk to me!” You can imagine how fun my college years were.

During my second year in college, I didn’t have many friends. You know, since I have such a wonderfully outgoing personality. But I was totally fine with it! A classmate of mine, however, wasn’t having it. Yasmin constantly initiated conversations, and she was cool and all, but I wasn’t there to make friends. I wanted to get my work done and get up out of there in 4 years or less. The most Yasmin ever got from me was a smile and a nod. I actually thought I was being pretty nice! I’d usually just stare blankly at folks who desperately try to befriend me.

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And she was trying. During gaps between classes, I usually didn’t have much to do, so I’d stay to myself or sit in the cafeteria. Until I started bumping into Yasmin. Everywhere. The more I saw her, the less annoying she became. I was starting to actually like her. Would you look at that, a potential friend!

Everything was going well between Yasmin and I. We even exchanged numbers and began following each other on social media. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship! Then she did it. She fucked it all up when she invited me to a hookah lounge with her and all of her besties. I didn’t want to be rude; she was a new friend after all. So I mustered all of my enthusiasm and said, “Of course girl, I’ll be there!” It was a damn lie.

“Abort mission!!! Abort mission!” I thought to myself. I was just getting used to the idea of Yasmin, and now I had to meet and socialize with more women?! The idea made me sick to my stomach. I cancelled last minute, and no, I didn’t feel bad. Yasmin would be fine without me there, she had her besties! And I was going to have as much fun by myself, watching movies and downing pints of ice cream.

Thing is my entire life is a contradiction. I complain that I have no friends, yet I have no interest in meeting new people. I want to be invited to social gatherings, but God knows I won’t go. I don’t understand myself and quite frankly, I don’t think anybody does. When I think of meeting new people, I panic because that required building trust and opening up to a new person. I’ve had several experiences with shady people; I tend to think everyone is going to do me dirty. My awkward personality doesn’t help either. I shut them down completely even when I intend to be social and friendly.

So this is what it’s like to be me. This is the life of a hermit crab. That’s what I should have been born as so that people could comprehend my resting bitch face doesn’t actually mean I’m a bitch. Maybe in my next life.

My Resting Bitch Face Doesn’t Mean I’m a Bitch

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