HERE'S THE PROBLEM
I love men! And, hopefully, this is not news to any of my readers ...
I do, though. I love men. I love the way their jaw muscles flex when they are upset or are contemplating whatever it is that men contemplate (please let me live in my dream world on this one). I am fascinated with how the muscles in their arms move when they're exerting some sort of force, and a pair of strong, solid legs will get me EVERY SINGLE TIME!
Stick a guy on a Harley Hog (minus the beard that meets their knees), and suddenly, I'm in heaven ... watching his arms twist as they shift gears. Throw some cool tattoos in for good measure, and I am puddy!
I'm obsessed with a guy that can play a guitar and somehow absolutely lose himself in his music. The weird facial expressions he gets makes it that much more enjoyable for me. If he can sing, watch out! A gravely voice belting out "Faithfully" by Journey ... well, let's just say that you had me at hello! Jamming in a band is just plain cool ...
And let's not even get me started on uniforms. Oh goodness ... I love a good uniform. Shoot! I've practically swerved off the highway at the mere sight of a strong, muscular man using a jack hammer with a jaunty orange vest on. Heaven help me with those jaunty orange vests.
I love the feeling of a strong hand intertwined in mine, and I get all jello-y inside when I'm gathered up in a reassuring "everything's going to be okay" embrace. Who doesn't like being led into a room with his hand on the small of your back or being rendered completely helpless when he runs his hands through your hair. I love men!
Here's the problem ... men don't seem to love me. This is, shall we say, slightly problematic.
Okay, yes, the girl's got some hips and a hefty pair of thighs! This has not passed my body radar. However, I've seen girls much bigger than I hook an incredible guy. So, what's my problem?
I've come to this conclusion ... I don't know how to flirt! I've decided this after watching many, many, many flirting sessions between sixth graders (I hate to admit that). The boys are, what I've always thought, stupid. They say stupid things ... do stupid stuff, and they generally annoy the crap out of every female within a 50-mile radius (yes, I realize this is pretty close to what "grown up" boys do too). At the point of flirting saturation, a typical sixth grade girl squeals, slaps the boy, and then giggles to the point that nausea sets in for anyone witnessing the display.
I've been known to say to a few of my sixth grade boys, "Stop flirting with the girls. You don't know how to do it correctly." However, I'm beginning to think they, in fact, do know how to do it correctly. It's me that has the problem.
Perhaps, if at Panera, the guy that has caught my attention, suddenly comes up to the pop machine to fill the 1/4 of his cup not currently filled with soda, I should quickly toss my straw over my shoulder and say, "I'm sorry. Could you please pass me a straw?" All the while fluttering my eyelashes coyly ... Of course, the Panera employee behind me is going to curse the ground I walk on, but it might be worth it, right?
Anyone got any flirting strategies for me?
I do, though. I love men. I love the way their jaw muscles flex when they are upset or are contemplating whatever it is that men contemplate (please let me live in my dream world on this one). I am fascinated with how the muscles in their arms move when they're exerting some sort of force, and a pair of strong, solid legs will get me EVERY SINGLE TIME!
Stick a guy on a Harley Hog (minus the beard that meets their knees), and suddenly, I'm in heaven ... watching his arms twist as they shift gears. Throw some cool tattoos in for good measure, and I am puddy!
I'm obsessed with a guy that can play a guitar and somehow absolutely lose himself in his music. The weird facial expressions he gets makes it that much more enjoyable for me. If he can sing, watch out! A gravely voice belting out "Faithfully" by Journey ... well, let's just say that you had me at hello! Jamming in a band is just plain cool ...
And let's not even get me started on uniforms. Oh goodness ... I love a good uniform. Shoot! I've practically swerved off the highway at the mere sight of a strong, muscular man using a jack hammer with a jaunty orange vest on. Heaven help me with those jaunty orange vests.
I love the feeling of a strong hand intertwined in mine, and I get all jello-y inside when I'm gathered up in a reassuring "everything's going to be okay" embrace. Who doesn't like being led into a room with his hand on the small of your back or being rendered completely helpless when he runs his hands through your hair. I love men!
Here's the problem ... men don't seem to love me. This is, shall we say, slightly problematic.
Okay, yes, the girl's got some hips and a hefty pair of thighs! This has not passed my body radar. However, I've seen girls much bigger than I hook an incredible guy. So, what's my problem?
I've come to this conclusion ... I don't know how to flirt! I've decided this after watching many, many, many flirting sessions between sixth graders (I hate to admit that). The boys are, what I've always thought, stupid. They say stupid things ... do stupid stuff, and they generally annoy the crap out of every female within a 50-mile radius (yes, I realize this is pretty close to what "grown up" boys do too). At the point of flirting saturation, a typical sixth grade girl squeals, slaps the boy, and then giggles to the point that nausea sets in for anyone witnessing the display.
I've been known to say to a few of my sixth grade boys, "Stop flirting with the girls. You don't know how to do it correctly." However, I'm beginning to think they, in fact, do know how to do it correctly. It's me that has the problem.
Perhaps, if at Panera, the guy that has caught my attention, suddenly comes up to the pop machine to fill the 1/4 of his cup not currently filled with soda, I should quickly toss my straw over my shoulder and say, "I'm sorry. Could you please pass me a straw?" All the while fluttering my eyelashes coyly ... Of course, the Panera employee behind me is going to curse the ground I walk on, but it might be worth it, right?
Anyone got any flirting strategies for me?
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