Last night as I smiled big and pretty and waved a collection jar around, and struck up some conversations with men, I had an epiphany.
See, I've always been bad at flirting. Particularly with strangers. Until now I've chalked it up to my shyness, introvertedness, residual teenage awkwardness, lack of physical graces, or that social ineptitude I'm always trying to hide because I don't want everyone else to see how much I don't fit in.
But lately, when men seem to be flocking to my door in undesirable droves (Andrew, laughing, said the other day, "Every guy in the world has been asking her out lately. It's like Sarah's new thing is being the hottest commodity in town!") and I can't deny my attractiveness, I've been able to pull off the flirting a little bit. And last night while I had them laughing with my semi-witty rejoinders, I was thinking about a hundred other things -- the story I'm starting to write, my cat, how a friend of mine going through a tough time is doing, how I was tired and just wanted to watch a movie on my couch. And I brought myself forcibly back to the present to laugh at something inane the forty-something man said, and realized, flirting bores me.
There are so many things I'd actually like to talk about. Don't get me wrong, I love a witty, fun, fast-paced, ping-pong conversation where the hilarity swells to epidemic proportions (this is a trademark with MP and me at parties) but those are not the same as striking just the right body pose and just the right winning smile and saying just the right almost-naughty, ego-petting things to some guy I've never seen before, especially when any idiot can see that the two of us have nothing in common.
Now later in the evening, I met this other guy and we had a great, intense conversation about the failure of the public education system to address the needs of gifted kids. He invited me to do something afterward (but I was seriously beat, folks, so I just went home), but I got his card and gave him mine, and plan to follow up. I don't think he's the smartest guy I've ever met (though that could have been because of the flowing Bud Light), but he was passionate about the subject and I was grateful for a real conversation as opposed to the usual mundanity.
And flirting is different when you're bantering with an attractive man with whom you can see right away that you have similarities (although this seems to be a rare event). Then it's fun. But vying with other girls for the attentions of some mediocre guy who just loves the game is a waste of my time. And in most of the rest of the cases flirting is an act of politeness toward the older dudes who shuffle up to you and clearly just want a piece of twenty-four-year-old ass. They're not that intelligent, not that interesting, and certainly not classy. But you put up with it if it's not inappropriate or harassing, because you always have to spare their egos (why are we so socialized to spare their egos? I have no problem telling an overt asshole where to go and what to do when he gets there, but these guys who are just so clumsy and hopeful I can't bring myself to be mean to). And then I find myself standing around wishing I were talking about something else.
But oh well; that's the world. I hear people at work who are no longer single talking nostalgically about their single days, when they could flirt and it was so much fun. And I just nod and talk about how great the single life is. But I've never found flirting to be that much fun. It's not how I like to get to know a person. I am looking forward with untempered enthusiasm to the day when I can with society's blessing put away the games and relax in one deep, intimate, knowing love for the rest of my life, without facades.
But I've been realizing over and over again lately that I'm something of a misfit. So I try to disguise it as much as possible until I trust people enough to say, I'm an introvert. However much I love people, they exhaust me from time to time. I'm actually shy. And I don't really like flirting.
At least I know now why I'm not that good at flirting -- it doesn't interest me. And I've never been all that skilled at things that don't interest me.
But in the interest of blending, I'm learning how to do it enough to get by. I wouldn't really bother, I don't think, except that having a winning mien is part of my job, which necessarily involves building up strange men's egos and gracefully responding to their flirtations.
C'est la vie, non?
4 comments:
Okay, first of al, LOVING all the posting. Secondly, we are so alike. Between this post, and the oneon preferring to express oneself through words, I am so there with you.
in my work world there's a fine line between shmoozing and flirting - once i realized how good i was getting at it, i tried to tell myself it was just part of the work facade - it wasn't.
i've just recently started realizing (thanks to a brutally honest friend) that flirting is a black black hole.
props to you for catching yourself!
Vive la resistance to le flirt!! (yes - dreadful attempt at french)
I've found that people have very different definitions of flirting, ranging from a sort of low-grade verbal seduction through to a kind of charged conversation which has no ulterior motive. Personally, I like to use the word in the latter sense, which fits a neat definition of flirting I once came across: "Attention without intention." I don't think there's anything wrong with flirting in that sense - it's a lot of fun provided both parties understand what is (and what isn't) going on.
But anyway, that's not the type of flirting you're talking about. Bravo on abstaining from ego-petting, and especially the not laughing at inane jokes. I think if everyone followed your example in this regard the world would be a better place (at least in so far as there would be less dumb jokes).
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