It’s all the personal metadata transmitter’s fault

I’m having a weird day (or had, it’s 7:30 damnit).

It was one of those days that makes me wonder to what degree my external presentation is attributable to visible nuts and bolts appearances as opposed to surreptitious and oblique subcommunications emitted by small nuances in my behavior and facial expressions, even vocal tones.
We are the sum of all that, aren’t we?

If you’re at a physical extreme (ugly or attractive), I suppose you have a lot more (or a lot less) hurdles to surmount by relying on the other hidden traits of physical presentation.

If you’re butt-ugly, you are fucked. I don’t give a crap what a great personality you have or about your gut-busting sense of humor. You’ll always be the really ugly entertaining person who can’t get laid. Conversely, if you’re fortunate to be amazingly attractive, your intellect need not rise above the level of sea algae, you will get laid. And a lot.

Ugly=repulses upon contact.
Attractive=draws contact.

It really is not fair much, is it?

Today I was eliciting something, but it wasn’t disgust or repulsion.
It was unfriendliness. Unwarmth!
What the hell. I’ve experienced it all, but never this…never the faint air of hostility.

What was going on?
From the geriatric clerk at Target who is making practical use of his post-retirement years (props to him) who was much more expressive with the youthful semi-banger who preceded me than with myself. How in the Hell does a fledgling troublemaker earn friendlier treatment from an Anglo senior citizen than good ol’ clean cut Me? Several other instances of less-than-favorable body language troubled me today. Maybe my brain was playing tricks on me. My perceptions have proven to be less than perfect before. I was with my son who is considerably less clean cut than I. In fact, quite a bit less. Maybe I basked in his rebellious glow? Was I the victim of his teen anti-aura?

God.

I’ve never elicited hostility before, that I can remember, when younger. Maybe I was too drunk then. This kind of vibe is new to me. As my son immerses himself deeper in the world of music I doubt it will improve. I guess this is why kids prefer to run off with their friends at this age. Birds of a rocker feather rock together.

I think of “Turn The Page” from Bob Seger.

Most times you can’t hear ’em talk,
Other times you can
All the same old cliches,
“Is that a woman or a man?”
And you always seem outnumbered,
You don’t dare make a stand

Even during my wildest thrash and death metal days (circa, 1985), I never really looked the part. Always the short hair and nondescript clothing. I had less guts than my son, so I never incurred Establishment disapproval. So this is what it’s like?
Am I just being a touchy bitch? Laying blame at my son’s feet?
Entirely possible.

Postsript:

I was completing this post when I came across a post over at a new blog, Omega Virgin Revolt, run by young guy tormented by his virginity and the mystical enmity he elicits in females. According to his explanation (which I’m cautiously leery of for I cannot attest nor verify any of it), he does absolutely nothing to provoke such behavior. There is minimal contact. He cites his presence in the STEM business sector (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics) as the primary reason for his troubles. I wonder how his experience compares to that of other male STEM workers (which is just about all its employees). It’s as if his presence, his very existence, triggers an inexplicable hostile reaction from women. Who knows?

I’ve always wondered about the existence of stream of “metadata” we emit which invisibly provokes certain behaviors and reactions in others.
A stream of data we emit just below the surface and which draws reactions that seem cognitively dissonant based on our visible and public behavior.

I was cool, man. I always keep a blank expression, neutral as hell, it’s my pride and joy. My personal metadata transmitter was killing me today.