Calling All Flirting Experts

Today was a normal Friday morning.  I headed to my favorite coffee shop before work, excited that they had their pumpkin drink on their menu.  I was sitting at the bar, reading newspaper, waiting for me drink when he walked in.

I have seen him there several times before.  Which is a good sign, because as I have mentioned, I don’t trust people who don’t drink coffee. I met him during my debut into the short film industry (if you would like an autographed head shot, please contact my agent).  I always wanted to talk to him again, but I was never brave enough.  I have squashed nearly every fear of mine, except the fear of talking to a cute boy.

Plus I had no idea what to say.  Maybe he didn’t even remember/recognize me.  You never want to assume you are as memorable to someone as they are to you.  That would be awkward.

Let me back up to earlier this summer.  One of my roommates got a call from a friend saying they need extras in the short film that they were shooting that weekend.

We debated for a while if we should go.  We were enjoying our lazy Sunday in sweatpants.  We eventually decided that when life hands you an adventure (and a chance at fame) you take it. So I put on my favorite shade of lipstick and tried to fix my mess of two day old curls that desperately needed to be washed.

It was some short film that a group of hipsters were working on (do people still use the word hipster?)  They needed extras to be in their party scene.  We arrived and I felt instantly out of place.  My roommate was the only person there I knew, and me being a good introvert wanted to avoid as much small talk as possible.

I sat down and waited as the crew bustled busily around me.  Someone handed me a beer for my prop, and another person told me I had to scrape off the label (copy right laws and such).  The guy in charge was burly and bearded.  He was starting to place the extras.  He came over to our table and pulled me away from my roommate.

He placed me by the entrance and told me my role was to be the girl the main character was trying flirt with, but I was trying to flirt with the cute brunette (it looks like life was also trying to hand me love).  I tried to keep the panic from showing in my eyes.  Just because I am wearing lipstick doesn’t mean I have any clue how to flirt.

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As if to make the impossible more impossible, we weren’t allowed to talk either.  But being the thespian that I am, I managed to pull it off.  He also made it easy and turned a really awkward situation into a funny one.  Soon it became hard to define where the acting stopped and real flirting began.

Let me back up and clarify, I can’t flirt. And yes, I do mean that I am incapable. Also if I am being honest it makes me a little nauseous. I don’t do the demure damsel act very well.  I am also am not good at gushing and stroking your  ego  biceps. 

If you have a big ego, I will make it my sole mission to destroy it.  Some call that flirting, I just call it doing a favor for humanity.  My “flirting” is dry snarky humor.  If you are smart enough you will catch on to the fact that I just insulted you to your face, if not well you will probably just laugh and pretend you got the joke.

Which brings me back to the coffee shop this morning.  I have no idea how to be a normal human when someone tries to flirt with me.  Which he did, and he did it well.  It made me laugh, and then I froze because I couldn’t think of a witty comeback.  I stood there awkwardly smiling for what felt like an eternity and then fled.


I know that I will run into him again.  In fact, I am hoping I do.  But I also know that the ball is in my court now, and I have no idea how to return it.

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