For the love of god, don't let it die like thisgreenspun.com : LUSENET : Hedgehog Talk : One Thread
God's sake, Kymm. Start some new topics so that I don't have to come here and find that the only new posts in a week are from half-wit non-regulars pulled in via search engines (I don't know why, but I am strangely compelled to check the "Piss, shit... [etc.]" thread every time it shows new posts, although I know that the topic attracts imbeciles like iron filings to a magnet. Naughty words, tee hee.)
... not that I have anything thrilling to talk about myself, being elderly and out-of-touch. I was at IMDB.com recently looking up some actor I have a crush on, only to find he graduated high school in 1996 and therefore I think it would be illegal for me to cross state lines with him, and you know those "celebrity shots" they have in the right-hand sidebar? I only knew about half of the eight people depicted. I'm bad with faces, so I clicked on one of the strangers, but I didn't recognize her name, either. Alison something. I don't even know most of the Mariners' 2001 lineup.
Anyway, Kymm, I still check your lousy forum from time to time even though you've left it to rot like an old sock. I thought that the recent disastrous flirting attempt might have warranted some discussion and sharing of old wounds. I was at a party a couple of years ago and started up a conversation with some random twonk, and immediately every other word out of his mouth was "wife". (The first word was "my.") Eventually his capital-W Wife wandered into the vicinity and he yanked her into our tete-a-tete by her bony little arm. I couldn't decide, and still can't, whether or not he was completely repelled by me or whether he was afraid of getting into Big Trouble being caught talking to another chick.
Another occasion I'll never forget was one where I drove a friend of mine, Gid, home from an extracurricular activity one evening late in my high-school career. Idling by the curb outside his house, I managed to stammer out that he should have noticed by now that I was always ferrying him around after school and that well, I really thought we ought to go out, you know, on, like, a date, and he TORE AT THE DOOR HANDLE, LEAPT OUT OF THE CAR, AND RAN UP HIS FRONT STEPS. I think he may briefly have turned to wave before retreating to the safety of his den. I'm still scarred.
-- Kim Rollins (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 19, 2001
I've told this one before, but it's worth repeating.
I have this friend, West, who's absolutely perfect. He's about 6'2", strawberry-blond hair, chiseled features, an absolute darling, and seemed to like spending almost all his time with me, a couple of summers back.
We'd met doing a theater project, and after that was over, we talked on AIM every night, until he said, "You know, I don't have too many other gay friends. Wanna be mine?" Which made my heart just pitter- pat, and I said yes.
A summer of playing "You Don't Know Jack" and going to the video arcades and movies and driving around late at night ensued. Never ran out of things to talk about, never avoided one another. Perfect.
So after a couple of months of this, in the car, I asked him, "Have you ever thought about dating?"
He nodded and thought about it, then turned to me, horror in his eyes and said, "Who? YOU?"
-- Patrick (email@example.com), June 19, 2001.
Yeah, there is nothing better for the old ego than the growing horror in someone's eyes when they realize that you are bantering in a flirtatious manner rather than just conversing like two people without genitals. "Eek! Eek eek eek! She thinks I have a PENIS! I must take my penis away IMMEDIATELY or she may try to TOUCH IT!!"
You know, or something like that...
-- Kymm Zuckert (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 19, 2001.
What's even worse is the guy who starts acting like that when you weren't even flirting, you were just trying to have an intelligent conversation.
This has to be the most depressing topic ever. I have at least a half-dozen stories that would fit right in, and the more I think about it, the crankier I get.
Because of stupid people who act so awful, I rarely bother with flirting anymore. It's not worth it. Anybody wants me, they better just walk up and tell me. Meanwhile I'll be in the corner, speaking on topics that no one could possibly mistake for flirtation, like Cookie Monster's eyeballs or the cheese fries at Shady Grove.
-- Jette (email@example.com), June 19, 2001.
Ugh. I can relate to this topic over and over again. The whole situation started early for me (what with being 5'10" in when I was 12), so I shut down the whole flirting part of my brain. Never really learned how to use it either. It's become a constant fear for me.
-- Andrea Thompson (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 20, 2001.
Is it okay to post even if you're a non-regular? Am not a half- wit,either...be nice to non-regulars. Non-regulars are only regulars you haven't met yet.
If I told you how old I was when I did this you would probably understand why my parents screened my phonecalls 'til I was nineteen, but nevermind. One summer eve, I was wandering down the streets of my small town, admiring my new hair cut, new little crop top and short shorts when I noticed this tall, very blonde seminary (yep,SEMINARY) student-this town was close to a pretty famous one)window-shopping or looking or whatever. I looked, my crazy little brain went...oh he's so cute and oh, he would get in so much trouble if I flirted with him!
So of course, I casually wandered over, we discussed the window's merchandise, the traffic in town, the best ways to get to various places and guess what? He ended up buying me tacos and a Coke and we had so much fun. Sorry this is not a depressing entry. Unless the fact that he was seminarian and I was jailbait, so we couldn't ever date is depressing.
-- JenniDillard (JenniJenni@another.com), June 20, 2001.
Kim, I'd say your party Husband there was definitely afraid of misbehaving-- not because you were even likely to offer him an opportunity but because of how badly he wanted one on meeting you.
But that's just my opinion; I could be wrong.
-- Michael (email@example.com), June 20, 2001.
Flirting and I don't get along. Not even a little bit. I start doing a fair imitation of "Can't get to the point guy" or "So subtle even I'm not sure I'm flirting guy" or if I'm drunk and got up the nerve to be more forward I end up stumbling headlong into "Creepy jerk guy". Guess how many women I've actually been with? No need to pull out the other hand. Not that I'm complaining mind you. Quality over quantity and all of that. It's just that I've met some wonderful women who I'm sure I would have gotten along with famously if I could have just let them know I was interested.
-- Travis (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 20, 2001.
Flirting...ah, so much more fun in one's salad days when dressing was everything. Actually, what was always strange was getting flirted with by someone who had read the work avidly first (am journalist), and then needed to begin with some provocative verbal jousting. *sigh* Any of you folks who keep a diary regularly find that to be true?
-- Sally (email@example.com), June 20, 2001.
Jenni, I didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome. By "non-regulars" I meant "people who don't read Kymm, and whom I strongly suspect would not really get Kymm if they did read her." Actually I see above that I specified "half-wit non-regulars", of which you are clearly not, having a substantial command of the English language. See, if I said I didn't want any moronic persons around, you wouldn't say, "Hey, I'm a person!"
Michael, you're very nice but I assure you that rumors of my babe- liness are vastly exaggerated.
Sally, I hear you on the verbal jousting. An old boyfriend of mine -- while I was otherwise engaged, prior to the old boyfriend's becoming my boyfriend -- used to go through my diary and send me grammatical and factual corrections to my entries. He could never figure out why I didn't understand that this was an expression of his esteem, why I couldn't tell by reading them that he had a crush on me. I have never understood the pigtail-yanking, poke-her-with-a-stick style of flirting. When I'm trying to finagle my way into a guy's affections, the *last* thing I want to do is *annoy* him. I do wonder if some men think that the only chance they have to gain our attention is to piss us off in some fashion so that at least we're thinking about him for a few minutes, even if what we're thinking is "For the love of Pete, if you think I'm so wrong about everything why did you want to talk to me in the first place?"
-- Kim Rollins (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 22, 2001.
My big big problem is that I'm always sort of flirty and affectionate, with everyone I like. I touch people and hug a lot and like to cuddle and make jokey jokes and am hardly every serious, and so it's gotten me into spots where the other person assumed I adored and worshipped and wanted to be his or hers in sweaty, glorious living color and was delighted to reciprocate in entirely inappropriate ways, orrrr was scared out of his or her mind and made me feel hideous, disgusting, ugly and fat while, as Kim mentioned in her own experience, bring up the True Love at every available opportunity. You know. I'd say "This is good beer." And the other person would say "Yeah! MY GIRLFRIEND likes beer. She's a real beer drinker, MY GIRLFRIEND is. Also, MY GIRLFRIEND? Who I just mentioned? She's BEAUTIFUL, my GIRLFRIEND. I sure do LOVE HER." And I'd be left feeling not only ugly, undesirable and misunderstood, but also mad because Idiot Moron thinks I am utterly clueless. Fsh.
When I do want to flirt for real when I have a big crush, my usual tactic is to get really, unusually super-quiet and very nervous tongue-tied and afraid that if I evince any sort of attraction at all, they will take option number two, be scared, and scar me.
-- Jen (email@example.com), June 23, 2001.