I've been telling people about a little crush I have developed on this boy I've recently met. We'll call him Andre. I met him about a month ago and from day one, there was obvious chemistry. While devlishly enjoying the fact that a certain (attractive) someone seems to have developed the hots for me, I was also feeling guilty: should I really be enjoying it so much when I'm already in a happy, committed relationship? Is it wrong to like flirtation even if I don't want it to ever go anywhere? How much am I allowed to think to myself, "Oooo, look! I made him laugh!" and "What a nice smile he has!" and "I wonder if he has a six-pack?" considering the fact that I'm already spoken for?
Rest assured, I've been told. Everyone I have talked to has told me this has happened to them, too. Yes, they say, it's normal to be attracted to other people even if you love your man. Yes, they felt guilty about it, too. But yes, it's kind of sinfully fun for awhile. Besides, what's a little flirtation?
So over the holiday, after the input from friends and family, I summed up the situation to myself as this: Eh, sure, have a crush on this silly boy you don't even know. Just don't ever let it go anywhere and don't hide the fact that you're already taken. Have fun with it. Be flirty, be silly. It's an ego boost to have somebody want you, so let him want you. And there's no harm in wanting him to want you either, just don't want him back. See this as your occasion to flirt without worrying about it going somewhere. Practice your flirting skills in a no-pressure environment.
I was excited about this new philosophy and thought to myself, "Well, hey, as long as if I have nothing to lose, it'll be kinda fun to talk to him now." You see, my entire life - prior to meeting The Boy - I was never able to talk to attractive men because a) I'm a chronic blusher, b) I am very self-concious when talking to beautiful people and c) I stutter around hot boys. This is because I am just dating-retarded. I have never been slick, have never been smooth. This time around, however, is the perfect occasion to prove to myself that I'm so over that, that I'm so cool now, that even if I were to have to join the single world again (ach!), I'd be so on top of it. Like buttah.
Here's how it went down:
I stride into the room and there he is. I carefully ignore him as I beeline for the coffee machine. Very cool, very smooth, very caffeine-addict-like (they say that's the new black). Later, he walks by my as I am standing in line for something else. I wave from across the room. He says, "Hi." So far, so good.
At lunchtime, as I saunter casually on by, I notice him sitting alone at a table. We make eye contact, so I stride over, keeping my pace even with the one I used to walk into the room in the first place. I'm super suave, still wearing my scarf. He asks how my trip was, I ask about his. Normal chit chat. I play with the danglies on my scarf incessantly. Once I am aware of this, I grab the back of the chair in front of me to keep myself from doing it. My fingers are itching for something to do with themselves. Instead, I start swaying back and forth a bit, while asking for clarification on something he just said. I hadn't been listening, due to the scarf distraction. I blush as I try to recuperate by saying, "Oh, right, you just said that." I blush more. Awkward silence, interrupted by the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. I itch my arm.
He asks about how ready I am for exams. I tell him that I have almost finished typing up and organizing all of my lecture notes. They're in a binder in reverse chronological order, so I'm feeling a bit more prepared now. I realize this is a dead giveaway, now he knows: I am not cool. I am a huge, huge nerd. All those conversations about music and politics and globalization, gone. Fuck, I hear my head saying, you're losing ground here, kid. Get out while you still can.
I mumble some excuse in poor French (the syntax of which I will later spend my metro ride examining in great detail) and then get on my coat. Once I am safely out of sight, I screw up my face and close my eyes and beathe out an angry, "God damnit!" to myself in frustration. Just like they do in the movies. I might have even slapped myself on the forehead with the palm of my right hand.
So much for seizing the occasion, taking my flirting powers to the next level. Apparently, I still have absolutely no game. I never want to see him again.
Then again, after pondering the conversation a bit, I've decided he might have been a tad nervous himself. Or I'll just keep telling myself that so that I don't feel I've lost all social grace. Also in my dream world, he's playing the scene over (and over and over) in his mind, too. And as long as we're in my dream world, that means he's not asking himself things like "God, why the hell did she say that?" or "Could she please just stop playing with her goddamn scarf already?" but instead he's thinking, "Wait, so this means she's a babe and she organizes her binders in reverse chronological order?!? Man, that's hot."
have fun, but if i were you, i'd actually tell him that you're taken, as soon as possible. just mention The Boy in casual conversation or something (if it ever gets to that stage :P)
I'm not just trying to be a spoilsport, i promise. I just think it would be bad if he got the wrong impression, for both of you.
Lottie - Tee hee. Yeah, he knows.
Haha, funny. We've all been there.
And I actually think the only way to get through a long, healthy relationship is to allow yourself to flirt a bit. Without that you start thinking that you couldn't survive without your SO, he's the only one who could ever want you, etc, etc. And we all know that's a nightmare.
I flirt with everyone when I have a boyfriend then I forget to turn it off when I don't, so I end up flirting with completely inappropriate people with no boyfriend-excuse to back me up.