I’m an obstinate, stubborn wench. It has very often been my undoing.
When I was a kid, I’d listen to my mother’s completely rational arguments as to why I should go to bed, eat cube steak, or wear pants, with the placid demeanor of the ideal Victorian child. But I only managed it because I had already made up my mind to do things my way, mom’s speeches be damned. Thus, my family nickname of "The Stubborn Bear" was born.
It’s not always awesome. As a stubborn lady, admitting you are wrong is akin to death.
“Becca, I think that ice is too thin to skate on,” someone might say, quite rightly. Using tactics such as “logic” is fruitless -- in fact, it only stokes my ire. “AND I THINK YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE WRONG,” I might say, while venturing out to meet my certain death. I would actually rather die than ever relinquish sweet, sweet control.
This makes me a veritable joy to date. Part of me knows that I should improve my behavior, if only to help kill the cliched notion that “Bitchez alwayz gotz 2 B rite, lolz” perpetuated by basically every three-camera sitcom on television.
Admittedly, in the past, my partners have found ways of soothing me, and only partially with their penises. This article by the Daily Mail (oooof course) would have you believe that if you are a straight dude dealing with a straight lady, one of the ways you can get a woman to do whatever you want is to smile at her.
I have to tell you, I can think of few things creepier than some dude being all, “Becca, can you please scan these documents for me?” while bearing his pearly whites. I mean, sure, I’d make the copies, but mainly only out of fear that he was a burgeoning, American-Psycho-esque sex-murderer.
The worst things about studies like this being published is that you know for damn sure some bro is already printing up the article and putting it in his wallet alongside some long expired Kahlua-flavored condom, for reference the next time he’s at a bar scamming on some chick.
Can you imagine being out and some weirdo tapping on your shoulder and you turning to see him grinning at you like a mildly crazed vampire? It ranks easily as one of the five things a guy can do to reveal that he is a "The Game"-following lady-hunter. The other four? I’ve made a list for you to put in your wallet right next to your free sub card for reference the next time someone grinds up on you at a foam party. (I haven’t left my house since 1998. And also I love subs.)
Like I said above. Look, there’s a big difference between a polite, genuine smile and a “I READ ABOUT THIS, SUBMIT WOMAN” grimace. If you aren’t sure which one you’re being gifted with, then riddle me this -- is he blinking? If the dude in question has paired his smile with a wide-eyed, unblinking stare, the kind usually reserved for cheesesteaks and deeply discounted Alexander Wang dresses, He Is Probs A Creeper.
2. Subtle Touch
When I find myself in crowded late night environs, I tend to shoulder my way through the collected throng as politely as possible, like your average norm. But creepy dudes have their own M.O. I call it "The Subtle Touch," and I guarantee that you or someone you love has experienced it.
You’re standing there, minding your own business, sipping some gin and juice (laid back, with your mind on your money, and your money on your mind) when suddenly there is an alien hand caressing the small of your back. You turn to face the Gentle Toucher and find some dude you don’t even know, whose mother never taught him how to say excuse me or the art of looking but not touching. He Is Probs A Creeper.
3. Boob Lookers
I have great boobs. People look at my boobs. I understand this as part of my reality -- actually, I embrace it. But there is an art to the boob look; a flicker of a glance, tastefully executed and all while engaging in a conversation with the part of your body that speaks words.
Then there are the dudes who can’t hack this -- who are so distracted and disarmed by bust or booty that words become challenging and the most they have to offer is a look directed at your delicates that is so fierce and determined you become concerned he is trying to explode them. He Is Probs A Creeper.
4. Strange Companions
Look, I am very close with my family and I consider it to be one of my life’s greatest blessings. But there is a time and a place to hang out with your mom, and the guy trying to sloppy French you at a bar at 1:30am while his mom closes out their tab is not a guy who has learned this. TRUE STORY.
Less obvious are the guys hanging out with a motley crew of dudes (or the dudes of Motley Crue) who inspire you to think, “What is he doing with these guys?” I’d refute Dr. Frank N Furter on this one -- judge a book by its cover. If his friends are creepy: He Is Probs A Creeper.
5. If He’s "Negging" You
I get "negged" all the time and it has never ever ever once worked. Maybe it’s because I’m like a tiny, female, Joe Pesci, but chatting me up at a bar and then saying, “I’m not usually into big girls,” or, “I’ve never seen anyone rock a mole like that,” isn’t going to end in me doing you. It is more likely to end in a bar fight.
And though I be small, I am fierce. Those are just a couple of the attempted neggings that ended in me rolling my eyes and walking away, and bellowing about Cindy Crawford, respectively. If he’s negging you -- He Is Probs A Creeper.
There are exceptions to every rule, this I know -- maybe you’ve found true love with a Subtle Toucher -- have you? TELL ME. This list is a jumping off point -- what are your creeper red flags?