Waging with the Mask

My roommates and I have been debating as of late whether the mask hinders a person’s appearance or accentuates it. Actually, the debate isn’t so much a universal “whether it does or not” but a reference to all of the different people who we are convinced are hot under their masks. There’s a few difficulties in this perception, the most concerning being age. Frequently, one of the five women that I share a home with will encounter a person that she presumes to be attractive but cannot determine if they’re appropriate to flirt with, and subsequently opts out of the interaction. Better safe than sorry, I think. 

I find it particularly difficult at my part-time barista job, where I already like to pretend every fifth customer is a hot stranger. (It makes the time pass by faster). I’m pretty sure that in my case, the mask mandate is enabling me to project attractiveness anywhere I want to. A few weeks ago, a customer came in with a beautiful arm tattoo, which I’m a sucker for, and I launched a conversation about the local artist who did it. At this point in any tattoo conversation, the information is partly for my personal reserve so I feel comfortable asking questions outwardly- like how much it cost and how long it took, and of course, the Instagram handle of the tattoo artist (this information will become very valuable in a moment). 

The customer had big blue eyes (another attribute I’m a sucker for), which is about the only physical characteristic I could identify besides his tattoo. I had butterflies in my stomach while I took his order of three cups of water. The butterflies were more likely caused by the fact that I wanted to believe that he was more attractive than he actually was. In a rational moment, the skateboard he was carrying would have been a reason to take my nerves down a notch since every sensible young woman knows to be apprehensive of skater boys. But alas there were four more hours left in my shift, and I was bored.

I didn’t flirt with him though, if you’re waiting for that to happen. I have no idea how people flirt with customers without it being creepy, so instead I waited until he was out of eye sight, and opened Instagram. It only took me three page scrolls down the tattoo artist’s feed to find what I was looking for: the picture of his arm tattoo. It was a large wolf with a snake wrapped around it, so it would have been hard to miss. And low and behold, his personal Instagram was tagged in the photo. It was private, and the profile icon pictured his masked face.

Naturally, I requested to send him a private message.

I said this:

“Hey! I was checking out the artist’s page and couldn’t help but noticing the arm of the cute boy I served earlier [Casual aren’t I]. Which would make me, the barista who poured you three glasses of water.” 

Maybe there was an emoji in there, I can’t remember.

He replied several angsty hours later, long after my shift had ended, and said that he’d been out skating all day but did remember me (“the nice barista”). He was impressed that I’d found his Instagram. Points to me for not coming off as creepy, I think. Anyway, we chatted over DM for a couple of hours and flirted ever so lightly, but didn’t actually follow each other on Instagram until later that evening. 

I had smoked a joint with my roommates and was now lying in bed, having revelatory life thoughts while watching the Vampire Diaries. He had just approved my follow request and I was going through the motions of creeping through every Instagram photo he’d ever posted. Don’t worry, there were 77. And he looked like a skater boy in all of them. 

Keep in mind, this is the first time I gained a realistic sense of what he looked like. 

One thing I discovered, a part from his skating aesthetic being more of a lifestyle: was that he was definitely younger than me. I realize that an age gap of a couple years is fairly permissible but I have a younger sister whose 19 and I instinctively associate anyone who is younger than me with her. I suddenly began feeling anxious and it occurred to me that I wasn’t actually that attracted to him- in appearance or manner of speaking. So why the hell was I flirting with someone I had only a projected attraction towards? And better yet, why the hell was I actively pursuing that attraction in the midst of trying to cultivate healthier dating habits? 

So I thought to myself, what if I just don’t do this. To prove to myself that I didn’t have to pursue this person even though I had been craving attention, I blocked him on Instagram. And then I went on Etsy and bought myself a necklace. This is all happening at three in the morning, by the way.

I fell asleep that night feeling giddy,  proud of myself for having realized so early on that I was holding a false sense of attraction for someone. In the past, I might’ve pursued the interaction anyway, at least until the internet flirting came to fruition in the form of a first date. It would have been because I was feeling bored, or insecure, or maybe depressed. But I’m aiming to be past that, and to flush out the motivations behind certain emotional responses (namely romantic interest). This time, it was evident to me after only several hours that what I felt wasn’t authentic or worth my time, and that’s only because I had to wage with the mask.