I am wasting my flirt!

I think I am wasting my flirt.  Friends have told me for years that I am a flirt.  I’ve protested this label, profusely at times but in the age of my thirties I am happy to take it.  My saving grace, my self flagellating justification, is that I flirt with everyone.  Man, woman, good looking, ugly, midget and centaur.  I flirt with them all but it’s not real flirting.  I don’t flirt with the intention of physical contact and in fact if I got it, I’d be mortified and hope that my giant arse would be swallowed whole by passing giant earthworm.  

I am good with words, I am good with conversation and I like them both.  I am a logophile.  Someone who is turned on by banter, big words and beautiful phrasing.  So I’ve become practiced in the art of word choice and using it on those that I want to make laugh and making me smile.  There is nothing sexier than a man who can use beautiful phrasing and knows the power of his syllables.

So here it is, thirty-three and a half years in and I think I am wasting my flirt.  There are three men in my life who really receive my flirts.  Not the general day to day chit chat that just happens, but the real stuff, the clever collection of words designed to make them laugh and me smile in a way that’s a little more cheeky than I would be to my grandmother.  Each one of them means something and nothing all at the same time and two of them are getting my best material.  And all of it is wasted.

Flirt Waster 1

He is by far the least of my worries.  He is the deli boy.  He is young, good looking incredibly kind, genuine and not just with his deli meats.  He is incredibly shy but he has a cheeky grin that makes me want to rip him across the stainless steel counter.  There is no innuendo, no sexual connotations and no overt use of naughty language.  I worry that the words that come out of my mouth will corrupt his pure soul and the image of my wholesomeness will be shattered into a million pieces.  My flirting consists of genuine smiles, head nods, nervous laughter and awkward questions about how his day has been.  I am petrified to see his khaki cap float above the counter but more disheartened when he’s not there.  Flirt Waster 1 is a non issue.  He is fun, he makes me feel good and is contained to the deli counter. 

Flirt Waster 2

Talk is cheap.  And with Flirt Waster 2, there is lots of it.  And it’s cheap.  So cheap in fact that I often walk away from those encounters feeling like I’ve just sold my narrative capabilities to a $2 hooker.  It started innocently enough, in fact there were at least three of us who found it mildly amusing to belittle the young, muscly man just to see if we could embarrass him.  Somewhere in there I picked up the sexual baton and not ran with it, I may as well have been riding the bullet train with it.  Mid punch he’ll tell me to hit him harder, and with a grin I do, verbally and with my fist.  Sometimes it carries on across a text message but this kind of flirting is amazeballs.  There is absolutely no risk of it moving anywhere else but it makes me feel hot.  It’s a reminder that somewhere under the layers of self doubt that it’s even conceivable that someone would want to say that to me.  But am I using my best material on him?  Does it use up?  What happens if one day I find someone who wants me to say those things and I’ve run out of ideas?  Or worse,  someone says it to me and instead of some sexy manoeuvre I throw him a left hook.  Flirt Wasting.

Flirt Waster 3

The worst of them all.  He knows I am logophile and has no issues sending the words back at me.  I am pretty sure he thinks it’s a joke and that the words don’t really have that great of an effect on me but the smarter he sounds, the more I want to flirt.  The words flow like the Nile.  Endless and wide in places, but constantly flowing in a stream of innuendo and playfulness.  He is by far the most appropriate candidate of the wasters, and the flirting at its most extreme but is the least likely to provide some kind of pay off.  While I know we have banter that’s almost incomparable to any other of my human relationships, the signals I am picking up indicate that’s as far as it will ever go.   The flirting leaves me on this ledge of what could be and then lands flat in the realms of single serves of wonton soup.  

All three of my flirt wasters epitomise the only ways I know how to flirt.  One gets those shy giggles and smiles that I didn’t even know I knew how to do, two cops the dirty thoughts and aggressive tones of filth and three gets the smart kind that uses words and phrases and intelligent innuendo that can turn me on inside and out.  (Sorry mum, that’s probably an over share)  But they are all a wasted flirt.  Each one unlikely to move beyond the allusion to a promise for something more and each one likely to continue the exchange. So what to do…?  Do I need to start harnessing my flirt material and save it for people who are more worthy of my sexual intelligence or do I let it go?  Do I need to be more selective of the people who receive my flirts and hope that has the long term effect that flirting was bound by nature to set up?  

I have no idea what I am going to do but my erotic story ideas are rife at the moment so I’m not sure that my flirt is drying up just yet. But the day, the hour, the minute, I can’t find a scenario that I haven’t written about, I am going to stop flirting. I am going to leave my flirt wasters and save my material for someone who truly deserves it.  Until then, I really should write some of this shit down.