Shame is sexy, especially when it’s hidden.

People will be more attracted to your faults than you.

Shame shows up everywhere, but you really start to see it when you work in service.

For me personally, being a woman in hospitality already forces you to perform. Being a beautiful one turns the performance into currency. Being a beautiful Black woman turns it into negotiation, the price of your presence is up for constant appraisal with people who think eye contact is intimacy and a smile is a confession.

I wasn’t just being watched. I was being interpreted. People project their desires and discomforts onto you before you even speak. That goes for any server. But if you’re good, not just pretty, but good, you learn how to use it. Not to manipulate, but to get your tips. That’s the whole point. You’re not here to prove your soul is intact. You’re here to make sure the bills get paid. Some people pick up jobs. Others pick up masks. A good service worker does both.

I learned early on that guests aren’t tipping you for perfection. They’re tipping because they think they figured out a secret. Something small. Something yours. That’s what makes them feel generous like noticing your humanity gives them permission to be a good person for a couple dollars.

A lot of people go out to eat for the people-watching. That’s the free appetizer. That’s why shows like The Bear or anything Anthony Bourdain ever touched get watched religiously. People say they want honesty, but what they really want is pulp. They want the guts of the fruit, not the peel. They want what hurts you, dressed up as something they can swallow.

Maybe you laughed too loud because your rent is late and pretending to be cheerful is cheaper than a therapist. Maybe you looked tired because you were up all night drinking with strangers on a Tuesday, knowing damn well your weekends aren’t yours. Maybe your smile lingered too long because part of you just wanted to feel seen. Not as a server. As a person. Something about that makes people curious. They want to know what you had to survive to show up this polished. They want to believe that being composed means you’ve conquered something. They want to believe the same could be true for them.

That curiosity isn’t always cruel. Sometimes it’s admiration. Sometimes it’s projection. Sometimes it’s envy wrapped in politeness. Sometimes it’s someone trying to convince themselves that their own shame is manageable, just because you made yours look like poise.

And this doesn’t stop at hospitality. The shame shows up everywhere. It lives in dating too. The difference is, in restaurants, the performance is labeled what it is. It’s a transaction. Everyone knows what role they’re playing. But when it comes to love and sex and connection? Most people don’t even realize they’re acting. Or worse, they think they’re being authentic when really they’re just rehearsing what got them attention before.

so far I’ve seen these kinds of shame, thanks to conversations with my friends over espresso martinis and French 75s,

Shame as a Quiet Hierarchy in Relationships

People won’t say it out loud, but they’re ranking themselves. Who had the better family. Who went to the better school. Who worked harder to get where they are. They’ll fall in love, but they’ll still be secretly comparing damage. Not because they want to win, but because they want to feel like they belong.

Now THIS I relate to heavily. I was raised to adopt a hypergamous mentality, but I don’t have the background to sustain it. So I’ve ended dynamics that’s seemed beneficial, but carried the shame of not being on their level.

When You’re Ashamed You Can’t Match Their Shame

Some people don’t feel worthy of love until they’ve suffered. And if they haven’t suffered, they start collecting people who have, just to prove they’re capable of carrying it. That’s where it gets messy. You start envying someone’s pain because it gives them depth. You think if they survived it, maybe they’ll survive you.

Keep the situation, change the tone

They won’t bring each other around their families. They avoid introducing each other to old friends. One of them might joke about being the “workaholic in the family,” always chasing the next promotion, while the other laughs a little too hard and quickly changes the subject. They love each other, sure. But there’s still a subtle embarrassment when they stand together. Not about who the other person is, but about how different their worlds feel when they’re side by side, like they’re speaking the same language but with very different accents.

But, back to hospitality.

I had a conversation with a newly developed mutual over drinks about service. I told them that the more attractive a server is the more it works against their favor so they have to accommodate in other ways. Now granted obviously you can get tipped for being a attractive, but the baddest bitches I know that be behind the bar making my drink… it’s finna be bad 😭 HOWEVER they get away with making mistakes majority of them time because being that beautiful people search for flaws and fucking up a drink is one way to do it lmfao.

It’s been times at work I’ll be so damn busy cause I was double or triple seated that in my head i didn’t think I provided the best service yet… I would get tipped 25% to nearly 50% and feel like I didn’t earn it. But them seeing me struggling and busy was appreciated. Now unattractive servers will be tipped just as much cause their personality and conversation skills. When you can make a table feel like they’re getting a personalized experience from everyone else you won!

But if there’s one thing that trumps looks and likability, it’s credibility. Menu knowledge. Wine pairings. The confidence to describe a dish in full without looking at the screen or second-guessing a single ingredient. That’s where real power sits. Doesn’t matter if you’re fine or forgettable — when you speak with command about your craft, people listen differently. You’re not just serving food anymore, you’re curating an experience. And when a guest feels like they’re in good hands, they tip like they respect you. Because they do. There’s something undeniably attractive about someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing.

And people want to know the shame it took for you to know what the fuck you’re doing.