Do As I Say, Not As I Do: Flirting Edition

I am a young woman who writes for websites that other young women read. Some people believe this makes me an expert on how to be a young woman. This column is my way of proving that nothing could be further from the truth.

I am a terrible flirt.

Now, when most people say, “I’m a terrible flirt,” they usually say it in a husky, Mae West-like voice as their bosoms pop out of their scarlet satin corset. They say “terrible”, but what they mean is “incorrigibly awesome.”

When I say “I’m a terrible flirt”, what I mean is I simply can’t flirt. It’s as though some essential amino acid chain that denotes “seduction skills” is missing from my DNA.

If I see a guy that I like, I usually avert eye contact, clamp my mouth shut and hide behind furniture. It’s reverse psychology. I figure if a guy knows how badly I don’t want him to see me, he’ll find it necessary to see me all the time until the end of time.

As it happens, if a guy can’t see you, he doesn’t know you exist.

This is where talking comes in. Talking is a problem. If I talk to a guy that I like, I usually ensure that he will never like me. In fact, I usually ensure that he thinks I need to be dragged off to an insane asylum that specializes in tortured, awkward, and bookish women.

If you think I’m lying, here are things that I’ve actually said to boys I liked (or could have liked given time and enough wine):

  • “I love the Battle of Gettysburg, don’t you?”
  • “I don’t like beer.”
  • “Iron Man is so not a DC character. Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
  • “You have really hot arms. You should, like, wear shirts without sleeves more often, or I don’t know. I’ll just go now.”
  • “Will you be my teddy bear?” (Okay, this was ironic, but guys in bars don’t often do irony, unless it’s them saying, “I’ll call you. I promise!”)
  • “Hey, just emailing you to know that I really loved seeing Waiting For Godot with you the other night. It was such a beautiful production of an intense play. Want to do it again and call it a date?”
  • “I don’t get it. Why do you want my number?”
  • “No, it’s not weird. You can talk to me about your mother’s death.”
  • “My dad died.”
  • “I’m not crying because my dad’s dead. Don’t you understand?”
  • “The Mummers are awesome!”
  • “Um…hi….okay.”
  • “Ahhhh….”

As you can imagine, none of these lines ever worked. None of those guys slept with me, kissed me or took me out on a date.

And so, the idea that I’m in any way equipped to tell other women how to flirt isn’t just absurd, it’s really fucking absurd. If I’m being honest to the women of the world, what I should really say is “Don’t ever, ever flirt like me.”

Be confident. Get the object of your affection. Then, lather, rinse and repeat as necessary.

Don’t be like me.

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Comments

  1. Sounds like me, I’m not able to flirt either. Although strangely I have been accused of being a flirt by jealous girlfriends and insecure boyfriends but I guess it’s them rather than me being a natural flirt. Whenever I try to flirt it all goes terribly wrong! I usually come out with the most horrible unnatural comments, giggles and uncontrollable voice levels. I am currently an apprentice to a flirty friend but suspecting I might need to take high intensity classes to learn to flirt.

  2. This is wonderful. “If I see a guy that I like, I usually avert eye contact, clamp my mouth shut and hide behind furniture. It’s reverse psychology. I figure if a guy knows how badly I don’t want him to see me, he’ll find it necessary to see me all the time until the end of time.” If this worked I would be so set.

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