Olenska

A WOMAN YES, BUT STILL FUNNY. (MAITLIN CORAN)

FLIRTING AND WHY IT NEEDS A SPECIAL HAT

Flirting is a myth to me, like bikini bodies or the theory that flicky eyeliner is achievable, and not a wistful dream, shrouded in regret and cataracts. In short, I think I have more of a chance for the Olympics then ever understanding any sort of flirty behaviour. I don’t think I’m especially remedial but if everyone wore a hat when flirting, it would make life a little easier.

I realise this demand might initially come across as slightly certain-historical-figures-insisted-on-this-and-segregation-based-on-arbitrary-characteristics-and-behaviour-is-tiresome. You might also point out that Hitler didn’t actually make anyone wear a hat, but I think we can all summarily agree that he went a lot further and this whole flirting debacle doesn’t need to go there. IT JUST NEEDS A HAT. Or a hand gesture.

Unlike dogs with their intuitive ear-satellites (I’m not a vet), I don’t understand when somebody’s flirting with me. I could sit there awkwardly chatting to somebody for twenty odd minutes on a night out, without realising he is APPARENTLY MAKING A MOVE. Braille would be clearer at this point of cluelessness.

I’m a fairly (overly) chatty person, and I assume most conversations with strangers on a night out are just a way of avoiding dubstep, whilst being able to smoke heavily and still drink gin. Therefore, any conversation will be enthusiastically taken up by me, and any chance of romance is ruined, as the advance turns into an enthusiastic Q&A hosted by me, peppered with my thoughts on politics and feminism.

Very quickly the advance is ruined as I relentlessly field questions about your chosen topic. It’s essentially a drunker version of Mastermind. One particular highlight of mine is when a boy invited me out to the smoking area, and I talked about my interest in goat farming for twenty minutes. I’m not entirely sure when I last saw a goat that wasn’t part of an internet meme, so I don’t know where that particular desire stemmed from.

However, if a guy came up to me, sporting a SPECIAL FLIRTING HAT then I would immediately know. To be fair, on the extremely rare occasion that I have understood flirting, I am able to extrapolate suitable candidates (as I write this it is becoming inherently clear to me that I perhaps run my love life according to bad game shows) on the basis of a few interests: gin, feminism, doctor who, pizza, politics or books. An interest in one of those is suitable, and a crossover is EVEN BETTER (although I don’t know what feminist pizza looks like - patriarchal pepperoni?).

However, a flirting hat would be a loud FLIRTING KLAXON and we could go from there. As it stands, I panic and accidentally talk about ghosts. Potentially with a crossover into goats. Donations for some sort of counselling are gladly received, gin is even better.

  1. olenskae posted this