The Art of Flirting
There are girls who are simply effortless in attracting guys because of their sheer physical beauty.
There are girls who are effortless as well in attracting guys but who may not necessarily be as beautiful as those belonging to the first group.
There are girls who are not as fortunate physically and conclusion says what is often stated obviously as regards their interaction with the descendants of Adam.
There are girls who are also not as fortunate when the heavens showered gifts of physical aesthetics that are within the confines of society’s judgment of beauty but are nevertheless lucky when it comes to finding companionship and yes, love.
And then, there are girls like me.
Extremes? I fall somewhere in between.
I’m not the mestiza/chinita type. I’m a morena. I did not even reach the minimum height requirement for international beauty pageant contestants but I’ve managed to at least overtake Ate Glo and reach Britney Spears (yep, I’m her height . . . well, almost) and have myself accommodated nicely in local contests of beauty, not only once, but many times over. I have doe-shaped dark brown eyes, nose that is neither too high nor too low and a "gifted" body type, add to that a brain that is thankfully sensitive enough not to apply the words “kill joy” and “clueless” whenever, wherever and however necessary. In short, I’d like to believe I’m just right.
But when I do try to shape up what with modern society dictating that it’s okay for us females to initiate the move, lo and behold! The result is always more than drastic, more than remorseful, more than what feels like the end of the world that I just want nothing but to have a gigantic stop and rewind buttons installed on my entire being.
A friend once asked me how to attract guys and consequentially, how to act in their presence. Feeling rather grateful and at the same time, flattered, that this girl, who was instrumental in helping me come “gracefully” out of my shell, was eagerly asking me tips as if I was some sort of an expert. In a nutshell, I relayed to her the art of flirting, my style.
Knowing that I could never be like those girls who seem to effortlessly draw guys to them as I’ve been informed over and over again by those “concerned” that I am the intimidating type, I told my friend that those in our league should first know who should be our target, a vital factor in determining whether or not we’ll win in the rat race called, sheesh, “love”.
Our target should be the ones who we know would fall prey to how we look and what we do. No matter what the cost of entering what was purely a man’s domain, our target should preferably at least be “worthy” and “decent” enough to talk to and be with. Whatever the quoted words’ scope is, that’s for us to know.
Next step is doing the assignment. Yes, we should do the dirty work called research. It’s hard. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or a terrorist to know that stupidity breeds forced inevitability. Gibberish talk? Translation: Rather than falling flat on our face before a man whom we thought likes ice cream but hates wasabi, we should better avoid the Nihonggo talk and charm our way into determining his flavours of the month.
Already way too liberal? Wait ‘till the next step. It is all about aiming straight for the guy’s eyes to catch his attention. But be careful not to appear so obvious that it is already much too creepy or worse, gratifying for the guy’s growing head. Ten feet away from the apple of one’s eye or at least at a distance that is neither too far nor too near, we should make our presence known by staring straight into the guy’s eyes that he starts dabbling with utter confusion on whether we’re boring right through him or we’re just really looking at something that is blocked by his physical presence.
Feels like it all ends there? No siree! If our guys finally approach and initiate a conversation, talk the talk. Real talk. No pretensions. We should summon our highest intellect so he’d know that we’re of the no-nonsense type. But if the talk leads to something we’re really dying for to be brought up, keep it real but be casual about it. No dilly dallies. No beating around the bush. Let those guys feel we know what we want but that we’re also capable of stepping our foot down if the manageable becomes much too unmanageable.
And finally, it ends there. The art of flirting.
Seems too good to be true? Not for me. Up to now I still wonder why I’m scaring all the good guys away. Maybe I’m too intimidating. Maybe the word “easy” for this art of flirting still means cheap talk and not real liberty from the rules of this patriarchal society.
