A difficult period of much alcohol consumption, probably contracting some sort of STD and trying your best to come out of 2014 with a slither of dignity.

Thursday 11 July 2013

The art of flirting?

I really try to refrain from calling it an art, I don't think anything related to cringe-worthy chat up lines and asking the closest person whether they want a drink, should be called an art. For starters, everyone in that club/brothel/aquarium or wherever else tickles your fancy, wants a fucking drink, if they don't then you probably won't want to be with them anyway, due to the fact they'll be sober and you're probably not looking so smashing.

I write this post because today... I got chatted up. This is a rare occurrence for me. And it wasn't pleasant.

I was quietly minding my own business sat outside work after a gruelling 8 and a bit-too-long hour shift, reading my book and burning alive in my black uniform when one of my regulars peeks his head over my shoulder and exclaims 'oh you're reading!!!!'.

I felt like turning around and giving him a good slap, yes I'm reading this book I am holding.. What else am I doing with it? Feeding children in Africa with it? Using it to paint my nails with? Yes Sir, I am reading it.

So after his very intellectual and insightful comment, he decided to encroach on my personal space and sit so close to me he might as well have been wearing my flip flops. He asked me about what exactly it was I was reading, I told him poetry, he asked if I'd read him one, so I did.

He then told me I have beautiful eyes and a good heart.. How it progressed to that I'll never know.

Ladies, Gentlemen and anyone else reading this, if you want to try to chat someone up do not, at any point, start talking about how many children you want. HELLO this is the 21st century, I am still a child and I do not want any of my own any time soon. My interests are swinging from chandeliers naked and playing in paddling pools full of whiskey. Not cleaning up shitty nappies that I'm sure I didn't grow out of before you'd finished your degree.

Because he is a regular, we have an unwritten rule at work to not be rude and to comply with what they're saying; usually they'll back off after a while. So after the 19th time he asked for my number, I scrawled it on a rizzla paper (the classy lady that I am) and tried to get back to my book.. This did not work. He was still sat there. Staring at me.

This gentleman is about 30, he's a millionaire and he drives a Bentley. I told him my age. He still didn't leave. I told him many things I thought would put him off:

  • That I wasn't interested in his materialistic possesions, 
  • that I wasn't going to cook him the picnic he wanted, 
  • that I wasn't willing to carry his children, 
  • that I had an STD, 
  • that my life was failing, 
  • that my Dad was a drug lord, 
  • that I have 14 toes
  • that i'm married to my cat... 
Okay maybe I didn't tell him all those things, but they definitely ran through my mind.

He was relentless and he didn't leave, I had to leave. This wasn't nice, I felt stupidly uncomfortable and definitely was a little bit sick in my mouth.


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I'm not quite sure how flirting works anymore, chivalry is most definitely in it's dying days. Dying as in playing scrabble in a retirement home dying. I mean how freaked out would you be if someone turned up outside your house blasting a romantic love ballad from their boombox to declare their love for you; I'd probably throw my cats at them and issue a restraining order.

However much we'd like to pretend we'd love all that romantic super soppy vomiting up rainbows and happiness shit, really the truth is we're all probably more likely to respond to a Facebook message saying 'oh hey ur tits r well nice wana meet up?' than being asked out on a conventional date.

So much flirting these days occurs over social networking sites, which really is the most stupid thing that's come of this transfer to technology. You're sat staring at your laptop or your phone, talking to someone you've probably never met, or definitely never met sober, looking at pictures that have been professionally airbrushed and most likely getting their charming one-liners from their Mother.

I suppose we could be stuck in this little rut, maybe men grinding their sweaty junk on you in clubs, or girls slut dropping on your freshly polished shoes is the way we are to find our next victims? I hope for the sake of everyone on this planet, and definitely the next generation to come, this is not true.

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Aspiring baby journalist, starting with a low key blog, mostly blogging for fun and because my social life depends on funds I do not have.
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