Sharing is scaring

I have one of those faces that people tend to trust. (I’ve been compared to a certain Disney deer, and as of late, I get Whitney Port a lot…so you be the judge.)

This is fine, except it also means that people like to tell me things. Things that they maybe don’t tell a lot of people. Which is also done, except that sometimes they’re crazy.

For example, people like to talk to me on the train. They like to talk to me on the subway. They like to talk to me on park benches.

Again, total strangers. Who tell me a great deal about their lives. And offer me advice. And I spend a good deal of time in New York City, a city renowned for it’s high concentration of crazies. So…I’m not saying I don’t take the advice, but I’m what you would call skeptical.

I’ve always said that I’m exactly the type of person tourists want to ask for directions; I generally look like I know where I’m going, and I don’t look like I’m going to mug anyone.

In college, I had this internship, and we all decided to form a three-on-three basketball league (which my team WON, by the by…).

Told ya.

When the time came to draw names out of a hat to determine teams, who do you think got elected to do the drawing? Yup, ol’ honest-face Justine. (Though, I really do hate cheating, so it wasn’t a bad choice.)

So I guess looking open and honest isn’t totally a bad thing. Now, if I could just get the crazies to leave me alone.

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