I’m going to revisit this blog post in which I tell you that I am horrendous at chatting up men and flirting, by revisiting what I mean is to tell you that I think I may have made a huge mistake and that actually, I’m really good at flirting.
I’m a flirtathlon.
Infact, when I was in primary school a girl actually asked me why I would laugh and smile at her brother all the time even when he wasn’t funny. His name was Daniel Brookes and it appears he was the object of my first dabbles into the world of flirting.
What I’m actually
rubbish hopeless at is closing.
You know in a sales environment where there’s that point where you wrap up the sale, cross the T, dot the I’s and its a done deal – dollars are exchanged and you heard that metaphorical KERCHING? Thats where I fall down. I can talk the talk, but then I can’t quite seem to walk the walk – when I come to walk I’m like a kid playing dress up in her mums shoes.
I can put in a good half an hour of playful banter, flirtatious arm patting and being absolutely charming (I can do this, I’m good with the whole “being witty” thing, its the only thing I do well) and still leave with neither a phone number or a Facebook add – because I’m too chicken to close.
What if they say no? What if they laugh in my face? What if the whole flirtation has been in my head? Like I say – chicken. So I tend to let the last half an hours worth of perfect flirting go to waste and watch him awkwardly hover and eventually disappear into the land of “I was THIS close”.
Is it still okay to let your friends do the “my friend likes you, can she have your number?”