Navigating the Stormy Seas

So I was having a discussion with one of my friends today. We were talking about dating, and flirting.

I found myself revisiting an example I had provided previously, that covered my feelings on the whole situation of being flirted with.

I never assume that anyone is interested in me. This is just my mental state regarding the existence of the universe around me. It doesn't matter if I jammed on a ballcap and am wearing ratty jeans and a decade old t-shirt, or if I spent two hours pinching, primping, plucking, and lacing before I walked out the door. Under the clothes, behind the makeup, and below the hair, I'm just me.

That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me. However, my compartmentalization of myself includes friend, confidant, teacher, student, listener, and occasional goofball. Femme fatale never dials up on that when I go out into the Great Wide World.

So when I go out to a bar, venue, event, etc... there are times I will spend in conversation with males. For all my shadowed social anxieties, I am fairly decent at small talk. Usually, I walk away from these conversations thinking "well, so-and-so was such a nice person". Months (sometimes years) later, I will find out that the guy was interested in me.

So, I have come to a major truth about myself. The only kind of initial flirting that I understand is the the kind that comes with a brick. Applied liberally.

I realize that sounds horribly violent, but it's also obvious. I mean, you don't smack someone with a brick on accident. And hell, it leaves a mark. There is no doubt about your intentions. You can't go back and say "No no, that was totally ambiguous. I mean, I DID hit you with that brick, but you had a mosquito on your shirt and I was just trying to help you out with that."

For me, flirting has to operate on much the same level before something in my brain wakes up and goes "Oooh wait, that was flirting! Cool!" or alternatively "Oh My God, that was flirting, how many exits are there and how far away?"

I can think of a specific example of this. Long long ago, in a ..... well no, it was the same city, so we'll cut that short. Several years back, I kept running into a person through a group of mutual friends. We chatted sometimes at these gatherings, and were friendly enough. I thought that he might be interested in me, but could never decide.

The most obvious and direct route is to just ask the person if they are interested. Yes, I know that. Yes, that is what I would advise anyone who was telling me about a similar situation. No, I seriously doubt I'm going to start the direct route at this point in my life.

I just tangented myself. Awesome. I'm not even sure that was a real word, but I'm also pretty sure I don't care.

So for months the situation went on in a sort of holding pattern. See cute boy at events. Talk to said boy. Leave party. Rinse and repeat.

Finally, we ended up at another venue. We'd been standing around next to each other for a while. People were milling around us on all sides. The lighting was low, and the music was pulsing. We were standing in that body-to-body pose required when talking to someone in a club. The one where you look like you are trying to crawl into someone's head through their ear, and they can still only hear every other word you just said. For a moment he just looked at me, and then he leaned down and kissed me. On the mouth.

The kind of kiss that doesn't say: "I like you". The one that says "Hi, I *like* you. If you aren't using that mouth, could I borrow it for the next week?".

That is a brick. Ogling my chest and asking me if I'll go to bed with you is also a brick; however, it is not likely to have the desired results.