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This is a question Flirting

Do you flirt with check-out girls just for the heck of it? Are you a check-out girl and flirt with sad-looking middle-aged men for fun? Are you Vernon Kay? Tell us about flirting triumphs and disasters

Thanks to Che Grimsdale for the suggestion

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:00)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

"It's ok, I'm a friend of your mummy's.
She's really busy so she asked me to come and pick you up instead. Would you like a lollipop? Let's go to my car, I've got lots of sweeties in the glove compartment. And you can meet my dog...yes, he looks just like the puppy on the Andrex advert..."
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:25, 6 replies)
Don't try this at home - it's better in a pub, but still don't
When I was 18 I frequented Nottingham Rock City. For those of you unfamiliar you'll quickly find that sex in the toilets is not so much a daring act of rebellion as part of the T&C of entry. Whereas in most of the country, the act of mating involves buying someone a drink followed by "sexay" dancing or, if you're really unlucky, conversation, at Rock City it's as simple as locking eyes with someone. If they look back, you're in. It really is that simple.

With this in mind, and much beer in my belly, a friend of mine bet me a drink that I wouldn't try what remains the most appalling chat-up line I've ever heard, on a real person, in real life and everything. It pains me to admit I did this, even so long ago.

Me: *makes come-hither motion at girl*
Girl: *approaches, foolishly*
Me: I made you come with one finger - imagine what I could do with two!
Girl *slaps, really quite fucking hard*

Amazing how quickly alcohol removes the stench of shame when you're 18. Amazing how long it clings to you once you sober up

Length? 13 years, and I still feel like a dick
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:23, 4 replies)

This happened only about two years ago. Twas in a club so there was loud music and I was with my favourite friend Exstacy. I was getting on very well with a girl, Lots of dancing and messing about. We ended up leaning against a speaker with our faces stuck together. When we prised ourselves apart she shouted over the bass line to me, that she was going to the loo. Then lent forward and said to me.

"Do you think I'm thick"

I replied "No of course not" She went off but never returned. After thinking about what she said it was obviously.

"Do you think I'm FIT"

Once again, Pill Popper shot himself in the foot, with both barrels.

Lenght about 110 decibels!
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:23, Reply)
would you like me to shit in your cunt?

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:22, 5 replies)
A guy slid up near me at a bar one night, leaned in close, stretched out his hand and pulled a chuck of my hair. In unison with the hair pulling he made a ‘HONK’ noise and then said ‘Now you have to marry me’. I’m not even sure if that actually constitutes as ‘flirting’ but I think that’s how it was intended. Strangely enough I didn’t accept his proposal.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:17, 12 replies)
Not really flirting more bypassing that whole stage
A guy i know when we were 16 and camping in a mixed group turned to a girl and uttered the immortal phrase: "You're here. I'm here. We might aswell..."

They did
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:17, Reply)
So. This month I've had a book on my reading list that's almost impossible to get hold of. I'm really interested in the subject, so I ordered it anyway from the surprisingly cute guy in my local book shop. He told me to check in three days.

Three days: no book. Smile of wan disappointment. Leave.
Four days: no book. Joke about Royal Mail. Leave.
Five days: Exchange greeting smiles. No book. Conversation about books. Leave.
Six days: Greet each other across the shop. He leaves his current customers to come and check the book's progress. No book. Long chat about Amazon vs. Ebay. Social web surfing.
Seven days: Customary greeting- by name. Customary customer abandonment. No book. I buy a novel to make his sales record better (and also because it looked like an amazing book.) He recommends buying from a competing store because "You passing the course is more important than a profit."

Now I don't have an excuse to go in there. So I'm asking- begging you, fellow QOTWers- recommend me some good, rare, hard to order books?
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:09, 33 replies)
Oh dear...
Apparently I flirt all the time, I don't know what I do that is classed as flirting, but my wife delights in telling me when I've been flriting. It'll usually be with females whom I have no interest in; her mother, my aunts, old ladies in shops, ladies on tills, nurses, etc. Occassionally, this is funny, some times it's mildly embarrassing, and some times completely cringe inducing.

So, a couple of years ago, my brother and a colleague came down to London for a course. As I was working in London at the time, I arranged to meet up for a beer and a bite to eat. After a couple of beers, we wandered over to Soho to find a little Spanish restaurant, Café Espana, which research suggested was a great place for tapas. So, we wander down Old Compton Street and find there's a queue to get in. Looks promising, especially as most of the queue seemed to consist of Spaniards. Two young chaps directly in front of our party were not Spanish. Apropos of nothing, I commented on the queue, the length and make up and how it suggested that we'd made the right choice and that reviews may have been right in suggesting that it was a good place to eat. One of the chaps replied, in a lovely soft Endinburgh accent and we chatted for a few minutes. What about, I have no idea, just that here was a nice lad and I was happily chatting with him. Until the other chap pipes up "Oh, it's OK, don't worry, I'm just his friend, not boyfriend or anything". Yes, I had been chatting up this lad and his friend kindly let me know that the way was clear for me to make a move, if I wished. Fortunately they were ushered in to the restaurant before the ground could open up and swallow me. Still, the embarassment didn't end there. When we went in to the restaurant, after having been seated, I wandered downstairs to the loos, whilst washing my hands, my brother's colleague came in, so I said that I couldn't believe that I was flriting with a gay chap, and, although I was quite flattered that he had been flriting back (hey we all like to be liked), I couldn't believe that neither he or my brother had stopped me, just as the young chap wandered out of the cubicle and smiled sweetly and told me not to worry as I wasn't really his type.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:08, Reply)
I have the ability...
to flirt with the wrong person, often of the wrong sex, often of the wrong side of the good looking chart. Leading to quite embarrassing situations.

Take for example a night out, not too long ago outside in the smoknig area we had located our spot for the evening, our group a mixed bunch, behind us a table full of girls. There was one I had seen out and about for ages and fancied her, surely this was the perfect time to have a good old fashioned flirt.

Unfortunately, my inner self wouldn't allow this - no that would be too simple, I mean there was banter between our two tables, and I was dressed if I may say so myself rather dashingly. No, what I decide to do is the school boy error, and start chatting up her moon dog friend - of course this will create a sense of longing in the object of my desires she will be flashing me her pork bap in the matter of minutes.

Nope - doesn't work like that, instead I was treated investigating swamp donkeys legs, that she hadn't shaved for a few weeks as she was getting ready for them to be waxed... all nice and prickly.

On other occasions, because I don't really get on with guys, I tend to just turn any conversation into shame faced awkwardness by flirting out ragiously... simple things, stroking of hair, commenting how nicely they smell, rubbing of crotches - you know, the usual.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:08, Reply)

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 14:03, 8 replies)
I have nothing to say on the matter.
Considering I am to flirting as earthquakes are to Haitian architecture.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:59, 3 replies)
And this is why I dont bother
I wish Linguaphone did a series of lessons in "how to communicate your interest to the opposite sex and understand when they are interested in you" because until they do, I'm about as able to deal with flirting as I am to discuss Middle Eastern Politics in Cantonese.

On one occasion, where I had thrown caution to the wind and was trying my coquettish and lingustically suggestive best to convey to the object of my desires that I was really rather interested in them, I recieved the follwing rebuttal;

"Are you, erm, flirting with me?"


"Oh. Please don't. It's awful..."

I could pretty much feel my ovaries shrivelling up as I excused myself from the table.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:57, 9 replies)
There's some daft person near me who's flirting with a tree!
On my commute to work, I drive past a tree that somebody keeps buying cards and flowers for!

I dunno what he/she sees in it - it's not even a particularly nice tree (it has a big scorched chunk taken out of one side of it!)
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:57, 9 replies)
The joys of a northern upbringing
'well, love, it's not going to suck itself...'

Things did not work out between us.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:52, 1 reply)
Hell yeah
I'm so fucking good at flirting. I am. Just amazing. There's this one girl who's a friend of my psycho ex that I've been trying to get on for years. I don't like her, I just have this thing for her. Like when at New Year's I told her I'd always wanted to shag her and she said "Oh... thanks" and the other time when I was walking and she was across the road and I waved and smiled and wiggled my eyebrows and walked into a lamppost, and the other time when I poked her boobs and the last time I saw her, where she was at the bar and I walked up and said "Hi!" she said "Hi!" back and I said "Ok... I have nothing else to say, must be honest" and she looked at me funny and then said "what the hell is your problem?"

I suck at flirting.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:52, Reply)
The Penis Song
Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis?
Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong?
It's swell to have a stiffy.
It's divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger
To the world's biggest prick.
So, three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas.
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake,
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy, or your cock.
You can wrap it up in ribbons.
You can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public,
Or they will stick you in the dock,
And you won't come back.

Don't try reciting this to a girl you like. It does not work.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:50, 2 replies)
*unzips flies*
*whips todger out*
So love, you in or out?
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:49, 1 reply)
i am usually
very outgoing and talkative. some would say far too much of both. but if i have a good point, it's that i can usually make people laugh a lot. unless and until i fancy someone. then my tongue sticks itself to the roof of my mouth and i carry the world's biggest watermelon.

classic example last week, when i went out for lunch with the impossibly sexy boy from work and his colleagues. now i actually know him well enough to handle decent conversation - it only took 12 months to reach this stage - and for the first half an hour it was just me and him, which was great. but enter the colleagues, give me an audience, and the following disaster ensues:

so we are discussing one of their former colleagues, who has just left the law to tour the world with his boyfriend for 12 months, before settling in dublin to study history. neither of them work; they have amassed enough money that they don't need to. he is also a total party animal. what i meant to say was, i suppose gay couples tend to have less in the way of fiscal responsibility because they don't have the endless resource sucking drain that is children, so they can spend more time and money on themselves. but i was so busy thinking this thought through that i missed the fact the conversation had moved on. then i got flustered because he Looked at me, and just blurted out:

"i wish i was a gay bloke."

he just stared at me in much disbelief before saying, "er... so how's your risotto?"

fuck, fuck, fuck. or rather, absolutely no fuck!
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:46, 17 replies)
I love flirting.
Women, blokes, dogs, horses it doesn’t matter. It’s a little ego boost for the receiver, a bit of fun that doesn’t (mustn’t) end up you making the beast with two backs. Sometimes the recipient is in on the game and the relationship becomes one of verbal pure filth. Other times it veers dangerously close, very very close to real filth and the flirting has to stop. :(

Flirting that ends in sex isn’t flirting, that’s pulling.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:41, 2 replies)
I went to a speed dating thing last week
I was quite fed up after about half an hour, so my chat up line to one girl consisted of raising my eyebrow suggestively and saying "sex?".

I did not get laid, but she did find it funny.

Flirting has never been my thing.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:40, 4 replies)
Here, I will tally the amount of times a story is posted which is essentially "I totally flirted with a girl and then had sex with her"

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:30, 7 replies)
My skills at flirting still start with punching a boy in the arm and running away.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:21, 9 replies)
Ah divvent flirt
Ah cannat even swim, man, pet.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:18, 13 replies)
I don't consciously flirt much...
but apparently I flirt just enough.

When I go into a store and need help from someone, I'm unfailingly polite, respectful and friendly to them- after all, I'm asking them for help, aren't I? And if the person I'm asking happens to be female, they'll often respond very favorably. As a result, the stores I commonly go into have a number of female employees who always smile back at me and are more than happy to help me with whatever I'm doing.

The only problem with this is that if I show up with my girlfriend in tow, holding hands, I get some startled looks and she gets the Paddington Bear Stare. Thereafter the formerly friendly female employees somehow can't quite hear me or see me asking them for help...

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:13, 34 replies)
I was never one to flirt
; )
: )
: p
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:11, Reply)
I was 18. I was looking good.
I had an actual Russian army greatcoat on (my sister had bought it for me for 80 Marlboro in St Petersburg about three months before communism fell over), my hair looked good - I was sharp as a tack as I turned up to the 'bus station.

Two girls over there checked me out.

I checked them out.

I was looking back to see if you were looking back at me to see me looking back at you

I pulled out my soft-top packet of Marlboros, and flicked the bottom.

The two remaining cigarettes flew out, and in perfect arches fell to the ground.

Unfazed, I picked them up, and screwed one in. I took out my Zippo, and squeezed the lid.

The lid flew up, and off, and in a perfect arch fell to the ground at the girls' feet.

I gave up.

Flirting's never been my sort of thing anyway.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:10, 5 replies)
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:03, 13 replies)
Well, since it's just you and me here...

/winks suggestively
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:03, 2 replies)

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:02, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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