Cute

For as long as I remember, most people find me cute.

Nothing wrong with it, really – if I was still a kid. But during my teenage years, I wish I was anything but cute. Cute doesn’t cut it when you want your crush to find you appealing. Cute doesn’t cut it when you want to be taken seriously, when you want to be regarded as an adult. And the thought that I would be in my 30’s and still be called cute? Terrifies me!

There was a time when I dressed up as a rocker and not a few people came up to me and said - guess what? - “ang cute mo naman!”. Cute? CUTE?!! Whatever happened to extreme? Cutting edge? Scary, even? Rockers aren’t supposed to be cute, damn it!

A few years ago, a stranger (actually, a friend of a friend) sent me a message in friendster: “just thought you’re cute!”. I was flattered until I saw his friendster nick – WomanHater. I don’t know how to react. Maybe I’m not woman enough so that saying things like that to me would not be against his uh, woman hating?

I don’t know. Maybe because cuteness conjures images of a person who has child-like qualities, who is innocent, fragile and needs to be taken cared of. And yes, I know I tend to be childish, but that’s different from being child-like, okay? I may not be worldly but I’m not that innocent either and for as long as I remember, I tried to be independent and self-reliant. So, to be described as cute, sort of contradicts who I think I am.

But although cute is not in the same league as pretty, attractive, or alluring, I would like to think that people say it and mean it in a positive way (I hope!). And it’s not as if that’s the worst description in the world. I would never be gorgeous or seductive or sophisticated, I know. But still, better cute than ugly, right?