It's a bit of a shock when I find out someone doesn't like me. Of course, it's a bit of shock when I realize someone thinks of me at all. Last night at a house party I met several people who know who I am. "Oh, yeah, you drive that big red jeep with the stickers on the back window." Or, once I got: "I know you. You're that intense chic who's always in the weight room at the gym." I never know quite what to make of these comments. Are they veiled compliments (well, my jeep is pretty cool) or disses (a lot of women think lifting weights is for lesbians)?
I had the realization that an acquaintance, a friend's sister, doesn't like me. I can even date it to a particular event, the moment she "turned against me." Last night she blatantly turned her back on me when I was said hi. It could have been because it was crowded and loud and she didn't hear me. But it wasn't. I have an uncanny sense of this sort of thing, a distinct clarity about human relations. I've always had it. Some people see dead people. I see body language. So, no, it wasn't the situation, it was me. She doesn't like me.
Part of me screams: But I'm fun. I'm crazy fun. I have a good sense of humor and I'm careful to only weild it against people who can handle it. I'm hot, I'm told, but not so hot that I'm not likeable. I don't flirt with husbands, even when they flirt with me. I don't do anything beyond flirt with other cute, more available boys. I'm intensely dedicated to my husband. I'm a fairly good mom, if my kids are any indication. I vacuum my house regularly. I'm easy to be around--all my friends tell me so. I'm respectful of my elders. I believe in God and try to live to His ideals of being a decent person. I support my beloved Broncos, even when they suck, and I adore soccer--from pro to four-year-old leagues.
Maybe she's jealous? Well, I laugh in the face of her jealousy. I spit at it, because I kind of suck, actually. I don't remember people's birthdays. I maintain what some would call an innappropriate internet relationship with a 21 year old guy. I'm terrible at quarters and pool. I'm a klutz. I'm a compulsive writer, often at the expense of those who love me, and I drink a wee bit of alcohol in the evenings. I have an odd affinity for the macabre and I have too many peircings. I dress provocatively. I don't call people back and I don't keep in touch with my friends enough. I'm a loner.
I don't know what to do about it or why I even care. I barely know her.
At least somebody likes me. I have a dog, after all.