The Art of Flirting

Before you think you’ve stumbled upon the mother lode…

I cannot flirt.

No flirting abilities whatsoever.

How I ever manage to garner the interest of men without this crucial skill is continually a mystery to my friends, my family and myself.

So if you’re looking for tips on how to snag that elusive mate---well, I suggest you Google Search elsewhere.

But I have a few theories. Ah---a single woman with theories! How astonishing. John Gielgud, take a bow.

First off---I firmly believe that a woman’s ability to flirt begins with her father. What man can refuse the request of an adorable little girl sitting on his lap? And when that little tyke puts her arms around him, smiles her cutest smile and says, “Please, Daddy---may I have that dolly?” Well, she not only gets the dolly, she learns an invaluable lesson: She learns how to flirt to get what she wants.

Unfortunately, my father disappeared from my life early on. My parents divorced. And he was never heard from again.

I suppose that might seem sad. But, from one who’s lived to tell the tale---you don’t miss something you never had.

And that’s the name of that tune.

Sure, there was an uncle. An uncle who, I was told, I could “wrap around my little finger”. But he was just an uncle.

An uncle won’t get you a dolly. Maybe some ice cream. Or the opportunity to watch Heidi when he’d rather be watching the Cardinals game. But for the big guns, like a dolly---I had to go to Mom.

And a girl can’t flirt with Mom.

A story my Mom loves to tell: One Saturday, like every middle-class kid, I sat watching Saturday morning cartoons; this particular morning, with my cousin, Ronnie. As the commercials came on, I paid careful attention to the ads for the latest toys. After every commercial, I looked to my Mom and said, “Mommy, will you buy me that?”

“Okay, honey,” my Mom replied.

Another commercial.

“Mommy, will you buy me that?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

This went on for about an hour before Ronnie finally looked to my mother in amazement and asked, “Are you really going to buy her all those toys?!?”

My mother smiled and said, “No, sweetie. But she won’t remember. I just tell her I will and she’s happy.”

And I was.

She told me what I wanted to hear, and then followed with a lack of commitment.

And they say every girl is searching for someone like her father!

For a request to be granted by Mom, I had to resort to reason. A skill at which, I am happy to say, I’m pretty adept.

But reason doesn’t work with men. You can’t reason a man into asking you out. Can’t say I ever tried it, personally. Just a hunch. But if you would like to spend a few experimental weeks of your life devoted to The Age of Reason---please report back and let me know how that works out for ya.

My second theory is that flirting is simply a matter of confidence.

A few weeks ago, while out with my friend Lauren, she saw someone from across a crowded room and immediately looked to us gals and said, with supreme confidence, “I WILL be dating him.”

And frankly, if this premonition doesn’t come to fruition, it will only be due to the fact that the gentleman in question faltered in some way and she will, in classic woman’s prerogative, change her mind.

When asked if I could quote Lauren on this bit of information, she emailed back, “…sure, use me as your flirt expert…just don’t make me look too flirtatious! Can’t have all those boys thinking they’re not my favorite!”

Spoken like a true flirt.

Lauren not only has confidence---she’s young, gorgeous, model-thin, amazingly smart, devastatingly sharp and funny, super-talented, and she’s just plain fun to be around. No wonder she has such confidence. In fact, for all you pretty young things thinking of coming to New York City to be an actress---this is your competition, ladies! If I were you, I’d think twice before I gave up my hometown beau and my $500 a month apartment.

As for myself, I have never uttered the words, “I WILL be dating him” in my entire life. In fact, I don’t think I’ve bothered to even utter the far more truthful words, “I WILL be pretending like I don’t notice and/or don’t particularly care for him for the next several months till he thinks there’s something wrong with me”.

No, I’m not a crazy broad. Just a little shy and a bit Annie Hall-type quirky. I was recently told by a friend that, “you need to see your lack of style as a style.”

And the confidence needle just breaks off and flies out the window.

However, all sundry, self-deprecating remarks aside---I AM pretty confident. And I DO tend to see my lack of style as a style. Call me crazy, but I like comfortable shoes. Nothing ruins my evening more than standing or walking around in uncomfortable footwear. I don’t enjoy wearing lots of make-up. In fact, I think the women who DO wear a ton of make-up are the ones lacking in confidence. And I like vintage clothes. No, not the baggy, Olsen Twins sort. And, really---those aren’t vintage clothes at all. Those are over-priced designer duds that even look ugly on 20 year-old, anorexic girls.

But when I walk into a room in my little black leather ballet flats with no Tammy Faye eye make-up and a J. Crew sweater I got for a dollar at a neighborhood thrift sale---I’m happy, comfortable, and pretty gosh darned confident. Barring my continued lack of success, I’m fairly confident as a writer. As for my social skills, well, I’m the perfect cocktail party guest---I’m witty and I like gin. And, currently, my friend Valerie is a little upset because the guys say I have a bigger booty than her. “That’s so unfair that a white girl has more booty than me!”

This confidence is not something that only comes from wisdom and age---I’ve always been like this. That’s why it’s called Style! Snap!

But with age and wisdom comes experience. This is why most women over the age of 28 develop something else---a super amazing bullshit detector. Yeah, it’s not the most feminine weapon to carry in your purse. But then, neither is mace. Unfortunately, sometimes both are necessary.

This is why, after exactly one and a half dates (yes, I only count the last one as a half)---that I’m throwing in the towel, once again. Dating is no way to get to know someone. And frankly, I don’t know why I agreed to these in the first place. But this seems to be my pattern. After a break-up, I go thru an appropriate mourning period, then plenty of Me Time, and then I go on exactly two dates (now downgraded to one and a half) before I realize how uninteresting it all is and then I just enjoy being single again. And then…across a crowded room…

So, with all this self-proclaimed confidence, why is it that I can’t find a decent…job?

Thought I was going to say something else, didn’t you?

To be continued…