Except one thing. There’s this skill that hasn’t really come back to me yet, after the two and a half years of Serious Relationship Existence, I somehow forgot how to flirt.
OK, so I’m not completely incapable or anything. It’s just that I’m so well out of practice that I’m just not very good at it. It’s like I’m in Junior High again.
Half the time, no one knows I’m flirting. My best friends see me interacting with attractive men, and afterward, I’ll ask, “was I being totally obnoxious and obvious.” They then ask me what I’m talking about, tell me that the thought that I was flirting didn’t even occur to them, and that they’re sure the guy didn’t get it. And I think they’re probably right.
The other half the time, it’s awkwardness to the nth degree. I kiss a guy on his cheek and Run. (Oh Yeah. I did that. Recently.) Or I’m just incapable of completing a sentence while turning Bright Crimson and swallowing half of my words.
And the thing is, I used to be pretty damn good at this. I’m not kidding. And I was so good, and so natural, that I didn’t even know I was doing it. I remember there was one time I was with Mama Bear and we were at a restaurant. A very nice looking server was waiting on us. As soon as he took our order and walked away, she turned to me and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen someone bat their eyelashes before!” I didn’t even know I was doing it.
Today, I’d have to put serious effort into that, and I’d probably be such a spazz about it, that someone would ask me if I had something stuck in my eye or if I was having a stroke!
I had no idea that this was a skill that could be lost, that this muscle would atrophy.
So, of course I’m not going to be unsingle any time soon, because people either don’t realize that I’m hitting on them or I’m scaring the crap out of them by acting weird. However, when and if the day ever comes when I find myself in a LTR (Long Term Relationship) again, I refuse to cease flirting. I will not let myself go again. Oh no. I will be a lean, mean, flirting machine. And, in other words, the worst GF ever.
In the meantime, all the practice is fun, if not amusing in a sad and pathetic sort of way.
Peggy Lu Who's Just Sayin' 
for the record… I was well aware you were flirting. And you were doing just fine.
Which time?
Oh you know which time. Wenis on penis.
That so DOES NOT count. That was just fucking around with someone who is obviously off the market. And being a pain in the ass.
I meant, you know, when it counts I can’t do it.
When I actually like the object of said flirting, it’s far less . . . constructive . . . productive . . . . shit, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.
So in other words that was a flirting time trial. It’s good to get a sense of pacing, but doesn’t count in terms of the actual race.