I suffer from Resting Nice Face. This is my story
By Elsa McGrath
THE LOVECHILD OF DARREN AND DAMO sits next to me on the night train from Newcastle to Sydney.
“Alright, darl? Mind if I pop a squat up next to ya?”
Actually, strange smelling man, I do mind.
There is still a good two-and-a-bit hours left on this trip and my plan is to read my book as a way of distracting myself from the weird sticky stains covering almost every surface.
“You look like you could use some company. Nice-looking girl like you shouldn’t be sitting here all by herself! Let me just put my bags up here next to ya, luv!”
As the minutes and hours tick by I discover through regular sprinklings of spit to the side of my face that he’s recently been released from prison.
I also learn about: his mum’s unfortunate yet widespread lice infestation, how his dog broke a nail trying to play the piano and his ongoing battle with an infected scrotum piercing.
All this happens without even so much as a quiet utterance of ‘hello’ on my part.
The very private and detailed stories he reveals to me without provocation hang in the air. Long after he disappears in a cloud of nicotine smoke.
SITUATIONS LIKE THIS ARE IN NO WAY UNCOMMON. I could easily fill several books with tales that have been whispered to me out of the blue by strangers, and I have finally discovered the reason: I have a bona fide case of Resting Nice Face.
On a scale of niceness I would categorize myself around a high 7.5 pushing 7.8. I don’t go around mercilessly beating any living thing, I try not to step on ants, I pick up rubbish if I happen across it, I help elderly people down stairs, and I let people with fewer items go in front of me in the IGA line.
But like any other human being there are moments when I don’t want to have to interact with anyone, for any reason.
Resting Nice Face makes this almost impossible.
For those of you who haven’t come across this term before, RNF basically describes a person whose naturally relaxed, expressionless face radiates an air of approachable niceness.
It’s Resting Bitch Face’s bizarro twin.
ANALOGY TIME: THINK OF A GLORY HOLE. You get countless dicks coming at you – some of them good, some of them not so good. The majority of dicks leave happy and content, but that’s not always the case for you. RNF is the human equivalent of a glory hole: doesn’t matter if they’re good dicks or bad dicks, or if you’ve invited them in. They’re going to poke their way through no matter what.
Chances are, if you have RNF you’ve already been diagnosed. But if not there are some symptoms you should look out for (consult a medical professional if you experience three or more issues):
It gets very hard to be taken seriously: Sometimes people just can’t see past your RNF exterior and will blatantly ignore or just overlook the validity of your high-pitched (but totally on point) argument.
People think you’re hitting on them: ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME: Sometimes a flicker of unintended eye contact is all it takes. Worse yet if in addition to RNF you have a terminal case of NG’s AKA nervous giggles.
Hoards of people will tell you their problems: Feeling like an unpaid counselor is all part of having RNF.
You’re a real life, walking, talking map: You’re a beacon for lost souls. Your smiling face is a symbol of hope for those in need of the train station, or Pitt Street Mall. No matter if you have zero idea of where to go, your cheerful face is help enough.
YET, AS MUCH AS RESTING NICE FACE TAKETH AWAY, it also giveth.
Just this week I was having lunch with a friend who has quite a severe bout of Resting Bitch Face at the best of times. The waiter brought over our desserts, one of which was clearly superior to the other.
As my friend began eating, the waiter spun back around and yanked the bowl out from underneath my bitch-faced friend and instead placed it in front of me.
“The nice one should get the nice one”, he said.
For my friend it was a case of Resting Bitch Face strikes again, but for me it was a free dessert.