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)

I'm fine at flirting
...when it's not face to face. Over the phone I'm great (turned an incredibly grumpy middle aged woman to giggling like a school girl in the first 42 seconds of a call before - a record that still stands in the call centre) but in person I turn into Hugh Grant's stuttering, stammering retarded brother.

Either that, or I end up rambling on like Jeff from Coupling - www.youtube.com/watch?v=hstPHM3R1dY
(jamesthegill opens new tabs with his scroll wheel, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 21:52, Reply)

2 complete fails of mine
in my defence i was young, naive and a geek

1. chatting to a girl in the local park, maybe 12
she tells me her name is 'Abbey'
thinking to flatter and flirt with her, my best line is
"woah that's like the bank Abbey National'
sadly about a year later I heard my mate say the exact same line!

2. PGL holiday (adventure camp) in final year of primary school (so maybe 11) we go canoeing, instructors are women and they hold a competition whilst we are floating around in the canoes
"who can tell us the best chat upline?"

Around me some guys are dropping things like
"i might not be fred flintstone, but i can make the bedrock" blah acceptable

me? turned into mr. tomatohead, never been so embarrassed, all i could say is
" Hello"
i dont know if her hand was on her face in mutual embarrassment or to shield her from the new energy source eminating from my beetroot face!

fail!
(tom.joad, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 21:38, 3 replies)

Losing My Virginity
This is the story of how I lost my virginity.

I still find this incident quite embarrassing and uncomfortable to recall as I am not sure if what I did is actually morally allowed. Please remember that I was young, horny and desperate to get laid for the first ever time. Nowadays if I was faced with the same situation, I would probably run a mile in the opposite direction.

I was 17 and living in Orkney where I was in the middle of my final year at school. At the time most of my days mainly consisted of skipping as many classes as I could reasonably get away with and drinking beer in my house with a few mates since I only lived about two or three hundred yards away from the school.

One afternoon I had a free period and then PE so I decided I would nip home to watch TV first before heading back later on to kick footballs at the folk on the trampolines for an hour. I was walking along the path outside the school when I bumped into a woman that I knew. Her name was Jane.

Jane was a 22 year-old single mum who I had met a few months prior. She was quite short but very attractive with long bleach-blonde hair. It was a nice day out and evidently she was on her way over to my house as well. This was nothing unusual. Her and my step-mum had become quite friendly over the past couple of months so I would see them in the living room together playing games with her son. I would often help out where I could since I quite liked Jane and the kid was pretty entertaining. He had just learnt to walk, and as such, he would take any opportunity to sprint across the room as fast as his wobbly penguin-legs would take him, and would inadvertently crash into walls, chairs, the dog or any other inanimate object that stood in his way. He was comedy gold.

Since she had been coming over regularly Jane and I were getting quite close and she seemed very happy that I was taking an interest and spending time with her son.

When we got to the house she cornered me in the kitchen as I was making a sandwich for lunch.

“You should come over to mine later for tea if you want? I’m making lasagne” she said.

Being quite partial to homemade lasagne, I agreed, since the alternative that night was roast chicken. And I cannot fucking stand chicken.

Later on in the day after I had finished terrorizing everyone in PE, I made my way up to Jane’s house. Because she was a full-time mum the Council had provided her with a nice two-bedroom house that she lived in with her son. The kitchen was attached to the living room so while she prepared the lasagne, I lay on the couch and watched Ed, Edd and Eddy with the kid. I loved that show. I have a sister who is eleven years younger than me and I would sometimes sit and watch cartoons with her anytime I was bored after school. Those were good times.

Anyway, after we had finished eating and the kid had worn himself out, Jane put him to bed and then brought through a bottle of wine. I was still lying down on the opposite couch so I took this as a sneaky opportunity to sit next to her. Over the course of the evening we shared a couple of bottles of wine and watched The Evil Dead trilogy. Romantic I know.

I was pretty inexperienced in relationships and, well, women in general, and I wasn’t accustomed to the basic signs of flirting. At this point I still considered this evening as simply ‘hanging out’. The fact that she invited me over for a cooked dinner should have been a clue. The Von Dutch t-shirt that she was wearing that was so tight I could see her pierced nipples poking through it should have been another. It finally hit home though when she sidled up to me, took my hand and placed it around her shoulder and gazed directly into my eyes with a fuck-me look that could have stopped a ravaging lion in its tracks, with her breasts beckoning me through her tight white shirt.

As inexperienced and naïve as I was, there was no way I could not pick up on that sign. I leaned in, placed my other hand tenderly around the back of her neck and kissed her. And I kissed her some more. Kissing then moved onto touching, touching moved onto rubbing, and before I knew it, she had a hold of my hand and was pulling me towards her bedroom. This was finally it. The day I had dreamed about was finally here.

I followed her into her bedroom, taking note of the vast amount of toys on the floor that I could potentially trip over later, and then proceeded to have the most eagerly anticipated sex I have ever had. It was awesome. There aren’t many things in life that you look forward to as much as having sex for the first time, and it certainly didn’t disappoint.

Now you may have noticed a couple of things from earlier on in the story that I haven’t clarified yet. Like when I mentioned that this was embarrassing? And why Jane was appearing at my house regularly even though we weren’t going out?

Well, the reason for both is that the father of her child is actually my step-brother. So the reason she was over at mine all the time was because she was taking her son to see his grandmother. And the reason why I felt, and still feel, awkward was because even although the sex was great, the woman I had just stuck my penis inside was technically the mother of my nephew. Or step-nephew. Can you even have a step-nephew? Either way, I realize that it was totally fucked up.

And so began my official journey into the depraved world of flirting.
( Fat Fred too weird to live, too rare to die, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 19:48, 22 replies)

I'm married...
... so I flirt with wild abandon - it's the only thrill I get these days. I do it everywhere and Mrs D just thinks I'm odd and that it's harmless fun. I'm not and it is.

I'm at my flirting best on the telephone. I have the perfect face... er, I mean voice for radio. You have to make best use of what you've got, so I take full advantage of my seductive tones and thoroughly enjoy chatting up the ladies.

Occasionally, I've taken it a little far and got myself into trouble with Mrs D.

Unfortunately, I've become addicted and often don't seem to know when I'm doing it. It has now reached the point where Mrs D's outrageously camp gay friend spends longer on the phone to me than he does to her and when he does get to speak to her he asks for rather intimate details about me.

On better days, female callers to my office phone have told me that they found my voice "incredibly sexy", which is always nice.

Of course, this isn't a patch on my pal Alan, whose favourite chat-up line with the ladies is: "Will you have sex with me", whilst simultaneously groping their breasts. Surprisingly, he takes them home more often than he gets slapped in the face. I like to think that maybe they slap him in the face when they get to his house. But I'm just bitter.
(KingboyD, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 18:16, 2 replies)

You know the psychological test about the girl at the funeral that sees a hot guy
and goes home and kills her father?

The amount of people I've told that to that have got the answer right disturbs me no end.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 16:42, 27 replies)

girls shouldnt do chat up lines..
The only chat up line ive used (and being a girl it isnt really the done thing)..

me to hot guy: ''so youre hot, huh?''

hot guy to me: ''yeah but youre not..''

me to hot guy ''OH BUT YOUR GAY, SHAME''

me: run away..

also another tactic i used to use when a guy would approach me was:

guy to me ''hey, can i get you a drink?''

me to guy: (long pause) scream at the top of my voice: NEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTTTTTTT.

garunteed to be left alone for the rest of the night.

job done.
(nettestar meeow, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:24, 6 replies)

White Russians
It was an average Saturday afternoon when my friend and I decided to go to a bar for some much-loved alcoholic beverages. Our excitement was short-lived, as they had no working beer taps. Cocktails and alcopops were to be our only source of liver-damaging goodness.

We have a quick flick through the drinks menu, and I quickly decide on a White Russian. Hey, it contains milk which strengthens bones and that has to be manly, right?

So I'm at the bar with my friend and I get the first round. I turn to him and ask him if he, too, would like what I'm having and before he answers, I order mine.

Me: "I'll have a White Russian, please!
Sam: "Oh, I'm not sure whether to have the White or the Black Russian."
Sam then turns to the barmaid and asks the following:
Sam: "What do you recommend? White or Black?"
Barmaid: (thick Russian accent) "I would go with the white because I am also a white Russian."
Sam: "Ok, can we get 2 White Russians then?"
Me: "...Make that 3."

I then proceed to give the worst wink in the history of my life, and this from someone who has to do an exaggerated face movement in even the best of them!

Barmaid: "You would only be able to afford 2."

Oh, the shame.
(JaxxKami, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:09, 2 replies)

In which grandmasterfluffles flirts accidentally and actually manages to pull
So, last night I was at a gig. This is not unusual in itself. A few of us went for a drink or three afterwards - also not remotely unusual, as anyone who hangs out with classical musicians will tell you. I was sitting opposite a rather fit baritone I’d never met before, but we were getting on very well. At some point, the conversation turned to flirting and I said, very truthfully, “I’ve been told I’m the world’s biggest flirt, but I’ve never any idea I’m doing it. In fact, if I actually want to flirt with someone, I have absolutely no idea how to go about it.”

Civilised conversation continued until we all decided to part ways. By this time, Fit Baritone and I had discovered that we lived a mere five minutes walk from one another, and so we got the bus together to Kentish Town, by which time we’d decided to have another drink at one of the many watering holes round that way. Trouble was, by the time we got there it was very late and everything was shut. “Never mind,” said Fit Baritone, “Come back to mine for a quick nightcap.” This I did.

So we got to his place, had some port and listened to some records and had a nice chat - all very cultured and civilised. Then it was time for me to leave, and as I was getting my stuff together, I suddenly found myself locked in a rather intense embrace with him, complete with lots of heavy breathing (him) and utter bemusement (me).

It turns out that while we were having drinks, at the moment that I delivered the line, “I’m the world’s biggest flirt,” my leg just happened to brush against his. He actually thought I was playing footsie with him under the table, when in actual fact I was totally oblivious to the entirely accidental physical contact.

I’m going on a date with him on Friday. Score!
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:08, 7 replies)

Do you know how to spot when a woman is flirting with you?
Me neither.
(TeabagSalad Never teabag a troll, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:03, 1 reply)

How sodding obvious does a girl have to be?
Back in my younger days I lived on a remote island in the back of beyond. We rarely got any visitors and as I was a young single and highly sexed girl of reasonably attractiveness I would openly flirt with any newcomer to the island when I got a chance (Believe me only a handful of the locals were decent looking but I had a bit of a reputation thanks to the fact that I had slept with a few people already).

One day we were visited a pretty nice bloke called N a guy who was already in a relationship with his girl back home but I thought he might like a bit of a fling while he was away from home. After a few awkward chats I did the usual things to show that I was interested and I was sure he wanted me but he then said something about God and also let it slip that he was still a virgin too.

After hearing this I thought that N was saying, I’m a Christian and saving myself for the bog off wench so cut my losses and buggered off with one of the locals instead.

The morning after I realised that I may have read it wrong and N may have been saying that he was shy and was unsure that I really fancied him. I then decided to give it one more chance and that night I went into his bedroom naked. Turns out that I was right in the first instance and he wanted me to leave him alone.

I know that getting knocked back by a bloke when you are stood there naked would be a bit embarrassing to some people but I left the room feeling pretty pleased with myself as I knew he would be burning in a wicker statue in a few days time.

Yes I know I’m a slut.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:03, 2 replies)

The Game
I must admit I am crap at flirting but some of the advice here isn't all that great. I know there is a difference between flirting and pulling but this book is awesome

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Game:_Penetrating_the_Secret_Society_of_Pickup_Artists

I thought it was a load of crap but I tried an excersise game called the cube on two women I didn't know very well, you ask them to put certain things in around this imaginary cube and based on the information they give you, you tell them about their personality. They were both amazed and were all over me like a cheap suit (the only time ever) and ended up with both of them in the bedroom, unfortunately we got in about 4am and they fell asleep...but still

The only thing I found with this approach is it tells you how to pull/flirt with girls so they are attracted to you but as well as you all know you can only maintain a relationship by being yourself. This book is my mates pulling bible and it works but can't remember him being in a relationship for more than a few weeks at a time.

I dare anyone to use the cube trick on a night out and see the results. invaraiably the responses are "wow you know me so well" etc etc
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 13:16, 17 replies)

Checkout
Walking into my local minimarket I was metaphorically knocked sideways. No, not by the sort of prices that only a big league Columbian drugs baron could afford, but by the bored looking teenage girl working behind the counter. I had a hankering for a garlic sausage sandwich and sex. Realizing prostitutes were out of my price range I settled on the sandwich instead.

Bread – check. Butter – check. Garlic sausage – check. (I was single at the time and my fridge was just a place to cool my beer down in. I think I had some Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, and half a box of cornflakes in my kitchen at the time).

I go over to the till. The bored looking girl rings the items through and I stood there looking like a sad lonely bachelor about to spend the evening eating garlic sausage sandwiches while wanking over internet porn. The girl gets to the garlic sausage. A long phallic chunk of garlicy goodness. She tries to ring it through. It doesn’t work. She examines the barcode, realizes its scrunched up and proceeds to flatten it out with her hands.

I stood and watched, gulping down air as this bored teenager proceeded to wank off my sausage with dexterity and expertise. It was like watching a sex ninja perform the perfect handjob. I just couldn’t let it pass.

“Now that’s a lucky sausage,” I remarked.

She gazed up at me, realizing what it looked like she was doing. And – thankfully – she smiled and let out a little laugh. “All part of the service,” she said in the most smutty way imaginable.

And then I was hooked. For the next week I made a point of visiting my local minimarket every night on my way home from work. By the end of the week my fridge was stocked with a veritable smorgasbord of phallic shaped food items. She was only a kid, it was only a bit of harmless flirting, but it sort of passed the time.

Then the next time I went in there I was greeted by Mr Shah’s familiar screwed up old face. Feeling a little disappointed as his crabby old hands rang through my wares, I said: “That girl you had in here last week. Between you and me, she was a bit of a goer. The things she said she’d do with a Pepperami. Pwhhoooo!”

Mr Shah finished packing my gear.

“And that would be my daughter,” said Mr Shah.
( SpankyHanky, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 13:08, 3 replies)

mate of mine
(drunk)goes up to random girl
drunk mate- "Hey, have you ever had your tits weighed?"
confused girl- "Ermm, no, why?"

drunk mate - *grabs girl's tits* "WHHAAAYYYYYYY!!!
*SLAP*
(tom.joad, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 12:32, 10 replies)

Refused red knickers
It was mid-December, just before Christmas, and I was out with a friend. We'd just been to see Bad Manners, and had a brilliant time. Buster was as ever a fantastic entertainer, and as always good for a chat and a drink afterwards. Given that it was late, my friend and I were on our way home. Only to bump into a couple of female friends of ours. One of whom wanted me to stay out for more drinks. Badly. However, I was tired, out of cash and didn't want to ruin a good night. Verbal persuasion wasn't working on my, offers of drinks were politely refused, and pleading was being ignored. I really didn't want to go to any clubs, as in Wakefield that usually means shitty dance clubs and expensive drinks. All I wanted was to get home, have a couple of cans and maybe a smoke, and then to bed.

But this wouldn't wash with my friend, oh no. So she tried to flirt with me instead. Now, I'm not the best at flirting as I've already admitted several times. I am in fact something of a spastic flidmong when it comes to flirting. Really, really bad. She, however, was worse. Now the girl in question wasn't too bad looking, but she was starting to piss me off. And then she tried her final gambit. "Please stay out Jim, look I've got red knickers on!". I suppose they had the added bonus of matching her slutty Mrs Claus outfit, I guess. But, whatever. I'm guessing she thought it would work on me, or something. What she didn't bank on was me saying "Congratulations, but it's not like I'll be seeing them crumpled on my bedroom floor now, is it?", and turning off into the night, leaving my friend to explain the situation.

She still hasn't lived it down.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Tue 23 Feb 2010, 12:26, 9 replies)

Flirting fail
So I do stand up comedy at my uni, which works surprisingly well at getting people interested in talking to you, unfortunately I can't talk back. After one show two girls walked up to me in the bar after and said "hey, we just wanted to tell you that we thought you were really funny" to which I replied "err, thanks, do I know you?"

On a different note I once tried to chat someone up but came out with "Hey, you're really pretty...you look just like my sister". In my defense I'm from Norfolk where this chat up line usually works.
(Jezziah, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 11:59, 2 replies)