Mark for Flirting 101: C-
So I am (currently) an assistant professor, what I think the British call a assistant lecturer, in English. At the end of one recent academic year, two of my students and I went off for a beer in the nearest campus pub.

One of these students was a very cute slender girl of East Asian descent, and as we entered the pub a large drunk guy offered her a greeting, a fist bump or something like. She didn't want to, so I returned the fist bump. And why not?

I'll tell you why not: the drunk guy showed up at our table and started hitting on me. I was then 37 or so, overweight, and very married, so I had assumed that I was a neutral actor, large breasts or no. Nope! And yet it was not a total loss, as everything then went into a happier world where nothing made any goddamn sense, just as I like it.

"Man, I been hitting on girls all day and nothing. So whadda you do? You a grad student?" "Professor for these guys' class." "So you're a professor, huh." "Uh-huh." "Really? So you got a PhD? And the whole nine yards?" "Yep, PhD and everything." "Wow. Cool. Hey. Paging Dr. Love. Dr. Looooooove! Paging Dr. Looooooove," the drunk guy crooned, "Doc! Tor! LoooOOoooove," as my non-cute-girl student buried his face in his hands. "So, hey, Doctor Love, I guess this isn't gonna happen, huh," Drunky hazarded. "Nuh-uh." "Okay, I'm'a go hit on that girl over there at the bar. And maybe I'll still see you around, Professor ... ?" as he offered me a slightly hope-laden hand to shake. And in my only decent come-back ever, I replied:

"Love."

The guy had the presence of mind to crack up, and also to inform me two minutes later, "Hey, Professor Love, she shot me down!" as he sat there with his hand hovering one centimetre over the girl-at-the-bar's ass.

He didn't even look that drunk.
(Tullia, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 9:21, 12 replies)

There's a girl in the office whose first name rhymes with my surname.
I intend to propose to her based on the comedy value of this alone. I have it on good authority from a mutual friend that when asked to identify me, she referred to me as "the jolly fella with the glasses and the stubble". I am taking this as a sign of nascent affection.

Wish me luck!

rafter
baz
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 9:14, 8 replies)

That Bridget Fonda, too.
I can just tell she wants me.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 8:52, Reply)

My mate Kevin has a good line in flirting
When he sees a sheila he likes the look of he just walks right up and says;

Do you fuck on first dates
Does you Dad own a brewery
Could I feel Your tits
Or would you show 'em to me
Cause you've got a nice head
And you look pretty honest
So me face'll be leavin' in quarter of an hour
I'd like you to be on it

Do you sleep in the nick
Do you give head very often
If we can decide your place or mine
We can fuck off then

If the answer is no
to me questions above
Then be a good sport and give me the name
Of a girlfriend who does

Does it work?

Doesn't work every time, but then again no method does?
He's been spat at and slapped
and Kneed in the nackers
But then he's got a few fucks as well
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 7:53, Reply)

I don't wear nappies.
I try to flirt and seem like a reasonably well balanced person etc. but usually things mess up.

When my partner & I were in the flirting/talking on the phone stage, I managed to create a very awkward silence. I was putting away my laptop, and because my best friend and I just call it 'lappy' and I thought it sounded cute this is how the conversation went;

Him: Hello!
Me: Hello! Hang on, let me just put my lappy away.
*Awkward silence*
Me: Hello?
Him: Did you say nappy?
Me: Um, no.
*More silence*

Needless to say I explained the whole thing to him. He was relieved.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that these misunderstandings tend to happen when you least want them to.
(Lalalalou, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 20:42, Reply)

Didnt do it!
Back in my youthful years, without a care in the world in the safe security of school, girls were just a bit strange, and went around giggling all the time so I mostly ignored them. Apart from one time, and I digress, when in top year I was walking up the stairs to get to my next class and the school girlie boffin was yakking to her younger sister - in my bloody way!! Quick shift of the hips (mine) and and hands on hers, gently but forcefully moved her to allow me past. It wasn't until I got about 5 steps up that the nerves in my hands reported to my brain what they had felt and I froze on the top step and stared down at her. She (at 15) and the full stocking and suspender kit on. A bit of a fetish on mine then and certainly now. Was never able to walk past her again without trying for a sneaky grope.

Anyway, back to the topic. Left school in the late 80's and worked in up in the City almost ever since. Married / Divorced - tick.

About 3 years ago I went to a casino in my home town for a few post Club chill down beers where you could hear your self talk and was having a smoke (when you could then) and this green goddess walked past. I thought fuck me I know her!

I called her name, which came straight out(its quite an unuasual one), god knows how as I had not seen or heard of her in nigh on 20 years, and she turned round.said our hi's etc. Met the next week. Avoided her husband for a month, and then she told me that she always had been besotted with me. She would drag her mum back from the shops down my street, just in case she saw me, and apparentely flirted all the time! This obviously went way over my head!

Been knobbing her for 3 years now. Bit of a bunny boiler in that she says now that she knew I would find her again. (Scary!)

Ps - she left hubby about 2 years ago so not a prob.

Flirt no, but she finally got to .......
(Suck it and Sea, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 18:53, Reply)

I only attract strange people
it's a sad fact but true. I never ever have nice normal people ask me out. If I want someone nice and normal I'm the one who has to make a move and I'm usually far too shy and un-selfconfident to do any such thing. So in honour of that here are a few of the more bizarre flirting incidents I've come across.

Being a lazy schoolkid I was always the person who missed the train and had to get the next one which was pretty much empty. When I was 13/14 a woman sat down opposite me. Not to be cruel or stereotypical she was a chav- the whole works, pram-face, makeup laden etc. She chatted away to me. Eventually she leaned forward confidentially and opened her shopping bag and showed me some red lingerie. This was getting weird so I sat as far away as possible. She smiled at me and asked if I'd like to see her in it. I was very socially awkward so I simply muttered something polite about going to the loo and fled the carriage.

And for my own flirting fail. Seated with a cute friend of a friend, and the conversation casually drifts to classical music, which I have a tiny bit of knowledge of. Turns out he plays several instruments and classical music is pretty much all he listens to. Aha! I thought. A connection. I can flirt a little bit, show how much we have in common. Asked his favourite composers, and when asked mine I mentioned Beethoven, Barber (for the modern angle) and Shostakovich. And then because I like violin music I stuck Vivaldi on the end of that. And his entire face changed to a mask of disgust. Vivaldi? he said. And literally walked away.
( Amberl was stripey and dominated Europe, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 18:33, 3 replies)

I went out with this girl for a week when I was 16
back then the nearest I came to flirting was going in for a grope, being a stereotypical repressed teenager.. Anyway it was all incredibly awkward, and we agreed to go our separate ways. Then I found out afterwards that she'd fancied me for a while, d'oh!

About 14 years later we started going out again, and we're getting married this year! So I suppose my flirting technique wasn't so bad after all ;D
( Finite "Aardvark sorted out my shit!" on, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 16:51, 2 replies)

Not really me flirting...
But I used to work with a lass who was either very friendly, mental, or wanted a portion of fresh Cowson. Thinking back actually, irrepsective of her friendliness or portion desire, she was clearly a fully-functioning brain and face moron.

She was always asking me how to do things, what to say etc, and being the frankly-one-step-below-Jesus kind of nice guy I am* I was always happy to help. Her cheery waves of thank-yous and beaming grins gradually changed to lingering hand contact, shoulder rubbing and eager 'please look me in the yes so we can have one of those Hollywood style moments like in that film yeah' glances.

I should mention at this point that this young lady, bless her, looked rather like a turnip in the face. A turnip with Jug ears. And she had a goatee beard. A blonde one, but a beard nonetheless. She later left to resume her previous career as an air hostess, one wonders what kind of budget the airline caters for when you get on a plane and the 'glamourous trolley dolly' looks like she was made from leftover bits of grade A mingertron.

IIt got a bit much when she said to me one day 'Oh Gertcha, you're so nice I could kiss you'. It was a gut-style reaction, I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but I had to stop dead, as if she had just informed me that she had killed my father and turned his cock into a plasticated bum-lance with which to violate those close to me, fix her dead in her wonky eye, and with a resigned sigh, intone:

'No. You fucking couldn't. I would physically restrain you, and possibly call the police. NO.'

Like I said, I'm basically Jesus.

*May be total bollocks.
(Gertcha_cowson NAH MATE, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 13:53, 5 replies)

This is a rapist from a while ago, but what the hell!
I used to live in Bermondsey, an unexotic part of South London that is home to Millwall FC.

We had a visitor from the States for some reason, I can't remember his name but I think it was David.

When David arrived the first thing he said was "Hey, tell me.. where can I get some British pussy? I need some British ass". He was only 19 and not lacking in self-belief, despite having a face like a bag of arses. Anyway David was endlessly talking about his seduction techniques, and guaranteed chat-up lines.

We took him to the least rough local pub one night, and he suddenly said "you see that chick over there by the bar? Well she's going to get laid tonight".
We said no, please don't but it was too late and he was over there in an instant.

"Hey baby! Tell me, is you dad a thief?"
"What the FUCK did you just say to me?"
"because...because he stole the stars and put them..."
"Fuck off now or I'll knife you".

he also came back in tears one day because he'd been "attacked" by a group of locals. He said "I just wanted to shoot some hoops, but this gang chased me back to the flat, kicking me in the butt".
"Oh no, how old were they?"
"Only about 6 or 7 years old, but there were, like, loads of them".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 13:17, 3 replies)

tips anyone?
iv been dumped you see ... so this qotw comes at a convienient time
(ladyintheradiator, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 10:01, 74 replies)

It's always a plus being a woman.
At various bars and clubs, I'll often get older foreign men coming up to me trying to dance. I generally decline, because I can't understand a fecking word they say. Once in awhile, when I'm running short on money or can't be bothered to bring any with me, I'll accept a dance from one of these said foreigners, but only if they buy me a drink. After the drink is purchased, we head back to the dance floor.

Now, these foreign men tend to throw down their "best" dance moves and they ALWAYS do a Michael Jackson-esque spin. In the middle of their incredibly unoriginal spin, I turn around and walk into the forest of people dancing, leaving the men dazed and confused and short 5 quid.

Give it a go ladies. It works every time. ;)
(Grass, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 7:05, 29 replies)

Epic Fail
As a suburban housewife and mother of two, I don't get a lot of the flirtz.

A curious exception was last time I pre-ordered a game. Gamer till monkey chap was obviously having a quiet shift and we engaged in some old light hearted banter and shop talk. I was halfway through giving him my details for the pre-order when it ever-so-slowly dawned on me that he was making a play. Bless his little heart for trying.

The scene played out like this.

Him: Mobile number?
Me: xxx xxxxx xxx
Him: Surname?
Me: Smith (not really)
Him: /puts on his best Barry White voice
And first name?
Me: Missus.
(Que?, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 6:41, 2 replies)

When im sober...
I'm just a shy, stumbling, stuttering useless git - who usually freaks out all women in a fifty yard radius.

When i'm drunk i'm like Barry White (but white n skinny) and all inhibitions go out the window. I dance like a King too.

alcohol is the ONLY answer.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Wed 24 Feb 2010, 1:13, 4 replies)

There was flirting involved, honest
Albeit in the months leading up to the event.

November 2008, just been at the Remembrance Parade with the Pipe Band I'm in, and after that, was heading to a Lady Friends to stay for a couple of nights. I thought nothing of it, just a few mates getting together because we had the next 3 days off college, have a party, head home in time for tea on Tuesday. That, was not the case. I got to the train station in Glasgow, to find said Lady Friend, who we shall call K, for anonymity , sitting at Starbucks. "I was up for an early night tonight, but we're babysitting my wee nephew, is that ok?" Thinking nothing of it, we headed off arm in arm, to the train that takes you out to the west end.

After babysitting till the wee small hours, we were relieved of our duties, and made the 10 minute walk to her home. She said, with a smile, as we got in the door, "I havn't made up the spare room, so you're in with me." Again, silly old Piper thought nothing of it. "OK, no worries, I've slept on worse places than a bedroom floor."
"Oh, I didn't mean on the floor," was the reply, with a cheeky wink.

As we headed upstairs, after a cup of tea, we hopped into bed, and exchanged a goodnight kiss. 10 seconds later, we were completely starkers, wrapped around each other. To cut a long story short, we were at it all night, both nights I stayed. Went to a Band practice, and got nothing from stick from fellow band members for falling into her beautifully formed trap, the whole "lets have a party, it's in my pants and there's only room for me and you" catch.

Length: 6 hours a night, with a trip to the cinema in between
( RossThePiper Stretch Armstrong is my Father, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 23:33, 1 reply)