As a young 20-something female from the burbs who recently moved to a more “urban” area, I’ve adopted a defense mechanism to save me from disgusting, embarrassing and/or uncomfortable situations. I call it the “look.” The “look” is a face I make for approximately 5-7 seconds: head slightly down, eyes peering at you from the right, brows raised, lips closed but not pursed. It says everything and nothing all at once. It says “Why the fuck are you standing in the doorway? They’re trying to close the doors to the damn subway so we can peace the fuck out.” it says “Why the fuck are you clipping your fingernails here? You’re disgusting.” and it even says, “Stop staring at me like I’m a fucking plate of lasagna. Try to be a bit more subtle, creep.”
I’ve perfected the “look.” I’m serious. I mean, I don’t mean to brag but people see it and they GET me. I know this because one woman put her nail clippers away pretty much ON CUE. I felt powerful.
Now, there are some situations when this “look” is not enough. I need a Plan B. I NEED A BACKUP PLAN, PEOPLE. Sometimes the “look” simply will not do.
For example, a few weekends ago I was in some trashy skank club/bar/wait-is-this-a-high-school-dance? in Manchester. We were all swaying our butts and doing that white girl thing. Two of my girfrans had some dudes come up behind them and they started junk-swaying together. I hate that shit and will have none of it, so naturally I began to panic because junk-swayers usually attack groups and I was the only victim left. Lo-and-behold, I got attacked. I moved away. My attacker didn’t relent. Then, I shot him the “look.” HE DIDN’T LISTEN. He continued his attack. Then, I turned around and shot the “look” for, like, twenty fucking seconds. He said to me, “You want to dance?” and I said “NO!”