Spanish has begun to rival English for the number of places in which it is spoken. It’s more than likely you know at least a few words, even if it’s not a language you have studied. Guapo is a common word to describe something as beautiful or having a pleasant appearance, according to el diccionario.
Women may not always realize when some random person on the street is calling them pretty in a foreign tongue, but the body language that accompanies the rhetoric is universal. I am all too familiar with this situation in Spain, the language’s land of origin. And, frankly, I’m tired of it.
I’m not trying to say that I don’t appreciate a compliment, but I most certainly don’t appreciate it when you attempt to unbutton my jacket and strip me of my shirt with your gaze. All of you have not stared deeply enough. I know my body better than anybody ever will, and I don’t need a stranger to tell me the best parts about it. I’ve grown sick of comments about my hair, my legs, my boobs, and my ass. What you fail to question is why this rubia chooses to keep her natural hair color, when it’s quite in style to experiment with other “more fun” colors.
My legs and butt are not constructed this way by chance. To those of you who travel in packs at night and see me wandering along the streets by myself, no, I am not a prostitute. (Please don’t call me that either). I enjoy walking at night, because for the first time in my life I’m not afraid of what will be waiting around the corner.
I am a runner, and I move through my day at a quick pace, so I don’t appreciate when your guapa calls pull me away from the leisurely enchantment of whichever city I am in and make me feel that I have to bow my head and move a little faster. Instead, avert your mouths, and maybe your minds will follow suit. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing twice and expecting the same result; if you call out to me in the same way as your buddy, do you honestly believe I will turn my head to the sound of your kissy noises? Originality is a highly prized skill.
Before you ogle what my mother gave me, you might do better to ask me what her name is. Interest in details about my best friend will go a lot farther than questions about my cup size. But I’m aware of where your interests really lie and that’s why guapa, as an adjective or noun, has no merit with me anymore. It ricochets off the parts of me that the old men in the bars are so sleazily focused on and fails to reach the girl they haven’t taken the time to look at. She radiates through every cell, on the inside and out. She decides when and why I dress up and apply make-up, and she is not thinking of you when she does. If she decides to wear a short skirt or put on boots con tacones that is not an open invitation for you to gape.
If this is the girl you are trying to reach, then spit guapa out of your mind and get a new word. It no longer resonates.
Guapa is quite a lovely word, and it is a shame that its intentions are so jaded. As a result of ill use, I no longer believe it from the mouths of those who mean it in its purest form. I apologize to the boys who see something peculiarly special in my face, and when our eyes meet and guapa forms on your lips, I look away with a polite smile and shatter your green dreams of relaxing walks in Retiro and a special “eye roll and smile combo” just for you. The possibility of love at first sight is dwindling for our generation.
I hope these men don’t take it personally. I am most likely thinking on the boy that called me guapa and left me waiting alone in front of the Estadio Santiago Bernabeu in my unofficial James 10 jersey without tickets, because I chose to believe him. And then of the man outside of the stadium that called me guapa just to entice me into buying tickets. I can’t say I appreciated being called guapa and offered a drink by three middle-aged men concerned with my relationship status on my walk home after being stood up. It’s discouraging to think how many of these shameless and sometimes creepy flirts I have encountered. Like Pavlov’s dog, I am conditioned to cringe.
Perhaps the culprits could cease and desist, and we could all work to make this word, in reference to women, substantial again.
