Flirting is such a difficult thing. Actually, it’s quite simple, but the language is so easily misunderstood. It’s like you want to be sure you speak the same version of Flirtage and not some bastardized Esperanto before you invest a minute in what can be an exhausting process. Still, flirting is healthy and it’s fun, even when done with someone with whom there’s no potential.
For example, flirting with gay guys is the best! They really appreciate the art form, so they play right along, even though there’s nary a stir from their nether regions during said flirting. Last night, I had such fun with my new best friend Nelson that he has made a commitment to me. Yep, he’s going to introduce me as his girlfriend the next time his dad comes through town. Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve played beard.
In high school, I was certain that I would be the mother of David’s children. His sister Faith assures me that I can still do this, just that I’ll have to give the kids to David and his husband Mark. Okay, that’s not really what I had in mind.
John, my friend of eleven years who has been “out” for seven of those, has told me I am one of only three women for whom he’d “go back” for a night of heterosexuality. I know there’s a compliment in there somewhere.
The worst feeling is that moment in which you realize you’re flirting with someone who has no interest in you. Not because they’re gay, but because you’re too fat or too old or too smart or too loud or too similar to their last girlfriend or not the right religion or whatever stupid Jerry Seinfeldian excuse for not being into a woman they choose to come up with. Of course, in Los Angeles, I’m way too frequently conned by the guy who’ll flirt, then reveal that he’d prefer fake boobs, fake tan, fake nose, and a stapled stomach to someone with her own curves, her natural alabaster skin tone, original facial parts, and healthy appetite. Oh, gosh, I’m sorry… am I too real for LA? Nine times out of ten, yep! Most of the time, it’s a non-native Angelino who finds me interesting. Remember, though, Native = 2 Years or More in LA, so I’ve gotta get ’em quick! Maybe I can set up a booth at the airport. It works for Moonies, right?
Bonnie Gillespie is living her dreams by helping others figure out how to live theirs. Wanna work with Bon? Start here. Thanks!