I’m known to many as suffering from what is coined a “relaxed bitch face” by the Daily Mail. What this means is that when I’m in the vicinity of a man that I find attractive instead of giving him Tyra Banks smizes my face instantly falls to my “I just smelt dogshit on the pavement” face or the “I just tasted mustard for the first time and it tastes like moldy ass” face. And if I do try to engage my face to somehow try and flirt through my face alone, I wind up looking like Wednesday Addams.

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).

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.