The “relaxed bitch face” also dilutes itself down into my personality and where I think I’m giving all the signs to someone that I like them, my persona can actually come across as giving the complete opposite impression.
Instead of compliments I offer sarcasm and insults. For me, calling someone an offensive name equates to flattery and is used as a term of endearment. If I’m comfortable calling you a wanker with a hint of a smile you’ve most probably made it onto my list of “people I don’t want to drop out of an aeroplane from a great height” (and the list of plane bombs is rather lengthy considering I harbour a low tolerance towards assholes).
Maybe I skipped the twirling your hair round your finger, over laughing at his jokes and making doe eyes at a boy gene which lets the male of the species know that you’re interested in him. Maybe instead I was given the mock at all times, wind up and punch him on the arm type flirtation techniques which are usually adopted by the male of the species. I always figured a guy would see through all of the above and take my mocking of his “sad excuse for facial hair” as me saying that his smile gives me butterflies or that his “shit and unfunny jokes” make me want to build a bed fort with him and lay in bed laughing till midday.
Perhaps there’s a psychological something behind it about building up a wall or putting on a mask or some such like? Maybe it’s because Santa never got me a Mr Frosty maker for Christmas and I still feel bitter about. You’ll need to ask Dr Phil about thst. Or, maybe I actually like the “banter” and insult throwing? A man to pull my hair, kick me in the shins and tell me I’m an idiot as part of a mating ritual. That seems perfectly normal right?
Failing that I’m going to start doing this thing where I try to throw in the odd compliment and maybe add a kiss onto text messages and yknow, be nice. Sometimes. Maybe.