sweet and innocent

Apparently, I often come across as very sweet and innocent (even in online quizzes), but while I do say things like "bother" out loud instead of swearing and have never even seen an illegal drug*, for example, I'm not quite as innocent as people tend to think. I sometimes feel like I'm stuck in that role, though, especially when people act shocked if I deviate even slightly from the way they picture me.
Relatively few people seem to see through these outward appearances, but those who do often end up being my favourite people. My best choir friend, who I've sadly lost contact with, was the first person I can remember telling me she knew I wasn't as sweet and innocent as I seemed, even though she had no evidence for that. One of my housemates realised when he caught me trying not to giggle as a Jewish dorm-mate went to elaborate lengths to avoid breaking the letter, but not the spirit, of the ban on work on the Sabbath. A shyness group friend re-evaluated his impression of me after reading some Neil Gaiman and being surprised that I liked something that dark.
When my choir friend first revealed she was on to me, I felt very exposed. The sweet and innocent act goes deep enough that it does feel like a part of me, but I think it largely developed as a protective mechanism. It's safer to be oblivious to things I don't understand, rather than make a fool of myself trying and failing to figure them out, and people are more likely to be more tolerant of oddness in someone who seems completely non-threatening.
I think the asexuality I posted about a year ago is a similar mechanism. Again, it's far easier to just take myself out of the game entirely than have to deal with any awkward learning process. Seeing myself as someone who desires/is desired would require a radical, and scary, shift in my self-perception. I said in this post that I'm not very good at noticing whether someone likes me, but that was probably a bit disingenuous of me. I just ignore/disbelieve/pretend I never noticed any hints of interest (on either side) that leave a shred of doubt, because the chance of being wrong is too scary to risk.
Obviously, I'm missing out on things by hiding behind self-descriptions that aren't entirely accurate. Maintaining these characteristics has required a fair bit of wilful obliviousness (including pretending to myself that it isn't even partly a pretence). I think, though, I might be getting to a point where the fear of what could go wrong is less concerning than the thought of missing out on something good. I don't want to get rid of the sweet and innocent part of me altogether, but maybe it doesn't have to stop me having some fun, too.


*except for when the police came to my high school to give their anti-drug talk and passed around some pot.