I’m a Huge Bitch, and I Love My Life (For the Most Part)
It’s liberating, even if you’re a guy.
She wouldn’t stop complimenting me.
It felt weird.
We were at one of those hotel bars, drinking overpriced bourbon. Within five minutes she told me how much she loved my hair, and my shirt. She told me how smart I was three or four times. Finally I asked her what was going on. That’s when her smile faded.
“The truth is,” she admitted. “I can’t stand you.”
“Oh.”
So we eased away from the group and started having a real conversation. Turns out, I’d done a couple of things to offend her way back when we were in grad school together. She was trying to overcome her dislike for me by being especially nice. It wasn’t working.
I apologized and told her I’d recently found out I was on the autism spectrum. We offend people without trying. Sometimes what we think is nice actually hurts. She seemed to get it, sort of. We didn’t hug each other. We didn’t become besties, but I think she hated me a little less after that. More importantly, we have genuine interactions now.
No more fake compliments.
