…So today I was on the Face Space (Facebook). And I was geeking off a conversation I had with my girl T last night about how I can’t be dealing with dudes right now because they distract me. I was telling her that the only things I need to be obsessed with right now are my money, career and grad school–my life. I literally cannot afford to give a dude a spot in the preciously limited real estate market of my mind.
And I know myself well enough to know that if I get involved with someone, they’re gonna get acres of brain space. For FREE.
Not a good investment.
So I made a facebook page and named it DaGame Jackson and married myself to it on FB so I could say I’m married to da game.
So I have this friend.
And, see, he doesn’t know we have a love/hate relationship. I’m pretty sure he just has a regular old “that’s my friend” relationship with me.
But I have a love/hate relationship with him because I think he’s sooo cute and smart, and yet he has the NERVE to not be trying to be my boyfriend.
Not that I necessarily want a boyfriend right now, but still. Positively insufferable.
But…here’s the thing. I think that like once a year or once every two years…this dude does flirt with me. And…see…what I think I’m doing is flirting back.
But what I’m actually doing is shooting him down or jokingly brushing him off.
Today I was talking to my girl K (she’s one of the few people with whom I can share the absurdity of my make-believe love/hate relationship with my very consistent and overall cool ass friend without being labeled) about how this time, I got it. This time, he sort of flirted with me and I sort of flirted back and it was perfect. PERFECT. A glorious mix of subtlety and openness that signaled to him with complete clarity that if he thinks he might want to take it there then I’m sort of thinking that I might be kinda ready to release my sensual womanhood on him, at least in part. A little.
So I’m telling her about my triumph, and I’m laughing like, “Yeeahhh, damn it feels good to be a gangsta.”
And she busts out laughing, like “What?! That’s not flirting! That’s joking!”
Bubble? Meet pin. Pin? Meet–oohp! No more bubble.
And for a while, I was making my case about how I was definitely flirting, until she reminded me that the last time I thought I was flirting with this dude what I was actually saying was “Shut the fuck up. HAHAHAHAHA.”
…so I conceded that I may have missed the mark on flirting just a tad this time as well.
I can’t flirt. And I have no idea why! When I was like 16/17, I used to be all about the sensuality. Lingering eyes, shirts that dip just a little past the crests of my newly-developed breasts, giggles–I was too much for my own damn self. A self-decided seductress.
But sometime over the years, I dropped the ball(s) (pun intended), and I have drawn so far into myself that I am, at my most mild, extremely awkward when trying to flirt, and at my most drunken, probably actually bordering on lecherous/harassing.
But I’ve completely lost the art of the flirtatious tete-a-tete, of coming toward, then running away. I’m either barreling forward or, if I really like you, staying the hell away so as not to drive you away from me.
Today, I was talking to one of my aunts about another guy friend of mine whose company I really enjoy. I was asking her what would be the best way to approach being in each others’ company more often. But even in that conversation, I was running away, telling her, “You know what? I have too much fun with this dude–I just need to not talk to him for a while.”
“What?!” she said, laughing. “That’s completely opposite!”