A while ago I wrote a long, rambling post in which I philosophized about tattoos and piercings, "labels" that fit as badly as ill-chosen clothes, and the need to make the inside match the outside. I never really did get to the heart of the matter. I must've been a little more sick than I'd realized at the time.
The impetus for the internal pondering was a random throwaway comment made by a friend. I had mused and/or whined to him that a different friend (a stranger to the person with whom I was speaking) had upset me by making an unwanted advance. He'd propositioned me, when he had every reason to know that I was not receptive to the idea of being like that with him.
My friend on the phone said, "I'm not a fan, but I watched a Chris Rock comedy show the other night. One of his best bits was a rant on women behaving one way but wanting to be treated like they're something else. He said, 'If you don't want to be treated like a whore, don't wear the uniform.'"
My initial response was surprise and anger. How dare he imply...! I took a few moments to cool off before responding, and in that time opened my mind to what he was saying. It's not that he thought I was dressing like a slut and so inevitably driving this other guy to treat me that way. It was more that I'd psychologically allowed myself to be pulled into that role, and eventually (without realizing it) I took it on myself and continued to play that way. We have *always* flirted, but over the period of a couple of years, it became ridiculous. Pointed. Constant. It didn't feel wrong until all of a sudden it just was wrong. By that point, the man could hardly be blamed for behaving consistently with that expectation.
The idea of "expectation," though, is the crux of the problem. I thought we were flirting; he thought we were involved in some kind of long, convoluted mating dance, whose result would be nothing short of [whatever that entailed for him].
Since I got that message, though, I have contrived to change his understanding of what we are. I have stopped figuratively "wearing the uniform." At first, he was really, really confused. He kept slipping into our familiar routine, and seemed nonplussed or even offended that I failed to respond as I had before. As more time passes, though, he has adapted and seems to have accepted the spirit of the change. We're not friends with benefits. We're just friends.
It wasn't just the situation with that man, though, to which I've begun applying the lesson. A couple of people at work behave in ways that perplex and frustrate me. We seem to be running in a little dysfunctional track, where each of us says same sorts of things, over and over. It is pointless and irritating. I have tried (gently - baby steps!) to change my stance (both physically and emotionally) and to at least use different words, if not a completely different approach to them. Weird thing is, it seems to be changing something. Maybe all that's changing is my reaction to the whole cycle of stupidity, but even that is a big something to change.
So. If you don't want to be treated like a whore, don't wear the uniform. If you don't want to be treated like you're stupid, don't act like it - or remind people that they have that option. If you don't want to be taken advantage of, in whatever way, don't offer your body, your time, your emotional energy, or your soul, for free.
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