April 27, 2012

Down with Bieber Syndrome (aka No, You May Not Talk to Me. Thanks For Asking.)

I’ll admit it. I was listening to Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” on my way home from work today. I was singing along, not worrying about any potential gawkers when it occurred to me. I would likely break out into maniacal laughter if a guy ever looked at me and said “Hey, girl, let me talk to you” and meant it.

Rachel and I have had this discussion before regarding Hanson’s “Give a Little.”  The whole saw you from across the room and had to have you scenario only works in music videos, romantic comedies, and apparently pop songs. I imagine that Justin Bieber probably can walk up to a girl and say “hey, let me talk to you,” and yield the results he was hoping for. Heck, he could probably walk up and poke someone with a fork and get the same response. Real guys…not so much.

I can’t help but think about all the creepy guys that hit on me at work and wonder how they became infected with this Bieber syndrome that makes them believe they’re being suave when they’re making fools of themselves. Thank God they’re not taking cues from “Give a Little.” They’re ALWAYS old. Ancient, even. They take innocent questions like “Are you looking for anything in particular?” and respond with “yeah, a date with you.” I ask “Are you finding everything okay?” and they look me up and down slowly and say “I found you. You look okay,” then wink. When I was student teaching, a senior stopped me in the hallway once and said “Hey girl, I can get yo number?” It took all of my professional resolve not to blurt out “Only for some much-needed English tutoring, kid.” Gag. Cringe. Pass.

My point here is that these songs are a skewed image of what girls really want, and it’s hilarious to me that anyone can actually do or say those things with a straight face. If you put your hand on my hip, don't expect me to bat my eyelashes and blush. If you wrap your arms around my body and try to give me a little anything, it’s time to reach for the pepper spray. This is not Sixteen Candles, and you, sir, will never be my Buzz Lightyear. Just leave it to Bieber.