“So I smiled at a cute boy today!”
“Well done, did he smile back?”
“I don’t know. I looked away.”
The above conversation may be an example of why my parents have no faith in my flirting abilities.
You see, last night an adorably shy young man asked my Mom and me for a pen at the gym. Mr. Bashful was exactly my type; he was awkward, tall and possessed that shifty eyed nervousness I find so endearing. Being the smooth vixen we all know I am I didn’t answer his pen request (though I knew full well there was a pen in our gym bag). No, instead I smiled at him and promptly looked at my feet, avoiding all eye contact and effectively shutting down any chance at small talk. (SMRP: making everyday situations awkward since 1987.)
That’s just how I roll.
Why didn’t I just flirt with him, you ask? Or, at the very least, answer the poor boy’s question?
Because, dear reader, that’s not how I roll.
When I do choose to flirt it’s usually by staring intently into a man’s eyes without blinking and asking in my Dinosaur Voice if he wants to get married and have babies. (Too subtle? I should probably pair this technique with a low cut shirt …)
Surprisingly this doesn’t get me many dates.
Occasionally I tell jokes, but HP knock knock jokes and stalker humour don’t always translate well. My last “flirty exchange” went exactly a bit like this:
On Wednesday I went to the Protection Services office to pick up my Photo ID badge for work. While the extremely hunky man searched for my badge, I attempted small talk. “Sorry, I didn’t bring ID to pick up my ID.” I grinned. He stopped what he was doing, looked up and said “You’re picking up a Picture ID.”
If I ever find a man who laughs at my jokes I will marry him.