Why I don’t smile: and why women love what I wear far more than men

Am I a cold, severe, unapproachable bitch who hates men?

“You do realise,” a man recently commented on one of my posts, “that Madelaine never smiles in her photos. It comes across as quite severe and unwelcoming. It’s not very attractive.” I could have laughed until I choked: because of course, he was absolutely right. I don’t smile in front of an audience of male strangers, in person or online. Because, as he had worked out himself, to men, a smile means I’m interested. A smile means I’m trying to look attractive. A smile means I want you to engage with me. And I cannot stress, dear gentlemen, how much I do not fucking want that.

This might shock you, but I don’t want every man in the street to come up and try to bang me

I am entirely capable, most beloveds, of finding blokes who a) want to fuck me, and b) I also wish to fuck. There is no shortage there, the market is saturated, I am not eager for pastures green, I am not seeking further applicants, and I do not desire your submission. And before you call me a loathsome arrogant whore: that’s just reality. By a mad lottery of genetics, youth, social preferences and desires, I happen to be an ok-looking woman that a lot of men would like to become sexually acquainted with. Not because I’m gloriously desirable and a great beauty: men just have an unbelievably low level of standards when it comes to getting…