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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.

Telephone flirting
Be very cautious when flirting on the phone with someone you have not met.

Due to past experience I now apply the following rule:

'Sounds nice on the phone, add ten stone'.

Trust me on this one...
(, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 0:48, 11 replies)
I flirted outrageously
With a girl in another city over the phone. Eventually exchanged photos, arranged to meet up, fell in love, and wound up married.
I just realised I'm living the sitcom Gavin and Stacey.
(, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 0:38, 3 replies)
Two blokes I used to work with...
Both mid 30s, good looking, charming but fairly narcissistic types*, happily in relationships (with separate women, not each other), used to catch up for a beer every now and then and pass the time "sport fishing".
They'd flirt outrageously with women, charm them right to the point of no return... then release them back into the wild.
Oh what fun they had, how clever they were and how convinced of their own coolness to still be able to pull the girls.
Yeah, that didn't work well when one of then did it to a friend of his wife.
Sorry, his now ex-wife I meant.

*I realise now I should have just said advertising account managers and you would all have known immediately the type of smarmy, shallow boys I meant.
(, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 0:26, 1 reply)
15, on a school camp at a local beach to observe the path of an ancient glacier
student teacher, about 19 or 20, not particularly attractive but a nice, "sporty", figure, always very chatty and friendly towards me - now I realise was flirting outrageously.
me, incredibly shy, with not a lot of experience.
She asked if i could give her a hand unloading the bus - meanwhile, unknown to me, the rest of the students and teachers had gone for a walk up the beach.
When we finished she went into a tent and laid down, saying "you must be tired, come and have a rest". I did and she moved over next to me. I just lay there looking up at the roof of the tent while she chatted and kept brushing against me.
Then I heard shouting, the headmaster and paid us a surprise visit and his car was bogged on the beach. I had to go and help push.

We met up 18 years later when she was the deputy principal at my kid's school. She asked me if I remembered the incident. When I said yes, she said "that was just bad timing, I was so horny, lucky you had to go or I would have been in big trouble".

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 23:20, 3 replies)
"Excuse me... Are you travelling alone?"
Asked the utterly drop-dead gorgeous Australian girl as I was standing in line at the check-in at Heathrow. I looked at her. She looked at me. For a moment time seemed to stand still - this was uncharted territory for me. The nearest I'd ever come to meaningful conversation with a girl was when Judy Gill had brushed past me in the doorway of the English classroom and apologised for standing on my foot. I cherished that memory for months. But my luck was obviously about to change for the better.

Here was a girl, actually talking to me. Asking if I'm travelling alone, on an aeroplane. Wow. Exotic or what? Air travel with a mysterious, dark-eyed foreign stranger. I'd seen Bond films; I knew how these things worked...

Quick as a flash I responded as any hormonally charged 14 year old would. "No, I'm with my dad, brother and sister". And pointed them out for good measure.

"Oh", she said, and walked off to join the back of the queue.

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 23:14, Reply)
"Nice tits"

This has actually worked...
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 23:02, 3 replies)

I was drunk. Very drunk, and quite inexperienced in the ways of the lady. Having decided that it was probably best to have a well earned lie down, I was quite pleased to have managed to bag the only double bed in the house and proceeded to use the space to my advantage, and proceeded to spread myself out as only a pissed teenage boy can...

"Can I sleep in here too?"


For two hours she 'tried to get comfortable.' By grinding her arse into my crotch. Eventually she got bored of the subtle approach, pushed be onto my back and straddled me, while taking her t-shirt off...

"fucking hell" thinks I...
"I think she might be interested..."
"Oh now she's taken her bra off and she's unbuttoning her jeans... and now mine..."
"You've got condoms? Oh good. Who'll be needing them then?"


I lost my virginity soon after...
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 23:01, Reply)
Very pissed at a party.
I approached an absolutely beautiful girl with not a thought in my head and said, "shall we have a bath?".

She said OK and so we did. Luckily there was another bog downstairs for all the people banging on the door.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:42, 5 replies)
Truckstop Brief Encounter
Couple of months back I pulled into a services on the A1 for my 45 minute tacho break. I set the alarm on my phone and went for a coffee.
As there was no one else about, I hung around near the cashier to keep her company in a non-stalkery fashion (these services get the odd grab and run by the scrotes).

We chatted. We chatted some more. She told me a few things. I returned the courtesy. I bought her a coffee. She told me she finished in 10 minutes, and could I walk to her car. Nothing if not a gentleman...and when we got there, she raised an eyebrow.

And the countdown timer went off.

Me "You know I'd love to, but: I've got 23 tonnes of peas in the back, and my wedding ring is getting hot. So is yours, I'll bet."

Her "First time in 17 years I forgot it was there. Shake my hand, once, and don't look round as you go."

Triumph? Disaster? I'll never know. I'll never go back there either.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:40, 17 replies)
I'm brilliant at flirting
I can be an absolutely shocking flirt at times and have become rather adept at getting served quickly in bars by flirting outrageously with the barmen. I'm also fantastic at putting on the damsel in distress act when I need help from a member of staff somewhere which always results in the highest levels of customer service possible from all male staff. The thing is that I don't mean to do it - it just happens. Something just kicks in and thousands of years of female evolution takes over. I really should use my super flirty powers for something other than getting served quickly at bars but the thing is that if I try to use my flirty powers they stop working. Put me in a room with a man I don't fancy then I can flirt him into doing almost anything. Put me in a room with a guy I do fancy and my flirting superpowers disappear and all I can do is talk crap. I am Flirt Girl with the power to flirt men into doing anything I want them to but my kryptonite is men that I fancy - how much of a rubbish superpower is that?
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:24, 7 replies)
Wood for the trees
Rewind 10 years or so, pre MrsMoriarty, on holiday in Gran Canaria. 4 girls in villa next door, on first night out I wander over to say hi. Flirt level on max. Charms work a treat and before I know it I have a girl I dont know sat on my knee and you know what happens next dont you.

Nothing. Im too stupid to notice my flirting charms have actually worked as she is sat on my knee for fucks sake. Before I know it im watching her cop off with my mate who is the travel rep and im left thinking WTF.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:23, 2 replies)
Partying! Drinking! Failing miserably!
It was a while ago now, and I regret to say I've not got much better in the flirting department. Someone else here mentioned they were all easy conversation, jokes, urbane musings and general pleasantness with a pretty girl, until receiving word the girl though he was a bit of all right. Then he turned into a gabbling, blushing, awkward pile of nervous sweating and inappropriateness. That describes me rather well.

Anyway, I was at a survey party for a radio network I used to work for. Twice a year, surveys would go out to listeners all over the country and the results pretty much dictated the viability of your product. Good results and the sales reptiles would sell a shitload of ads, meaning loads of revenue for the station and fat bonuses and golf club memberships for them. Bad results and revenue would be down, fewer ads would be sold and the reps would have to take up ping pong or something. It meant very little for a newsmonkey like me, apart from a twice-yearly free pissup at a local bar. Do well and celebrate - do badly and we'd drown our sorrows. Win win.

I'd collected one of my female colleagues along the way and we'd arrived as the party was in full swing. We sauntered to the bar and she pointed out one of the fridges behind the bar was full of our favourite brew.

"Whaddaya reckon, can we get through that before the end of the night?"
"Fuck it, let's give it a nudge," I replied.

Now, this isn't going the way you might think.

Time passed. Much beer was drunk. I remember standing at the bar. Actually, standing is being generous. If the bar hadn't been there I doubt I'd have been vertical. A Girl brushed past me on her way to the bathroom. The bar was crowded so I thought nothing of it. She brushed past me again on her way back and this time I paid her some attention. I can't remember exactly what she looked like - dark hair, big brown eyes and slim, I remember that much. My type. Lovely.

As is often the case when you're properly, teeth-floatingly wankered, my brain quickly switched onto another, completely unrelated topic. Lego, or Metallica, or Famous Grouse - something like that. The Girl brushed past me again - only this time, she took her sweet time. I clearly remember feeling her breasts pushing into the back of my arm as she trailed her hand suggestively across my lower back.

"Hmm," said Rational Brain. "I think she's into you."
"Fugginshuddupcunt, whatever, more whissssshky, she's just an ordinary girl trying to make her way to the bathrooms in a crowded pub you pissed fucker," said Drunk Brain.
"You know, you really should listen to me," said Rational Brain.
"...I've got nothing, but you haven't finished your drink..."

The Girl slid her way past me a fourth time, this time squeezing my hand as she did so. I followed her across the room with my eyes and she turned and stared at me as she reached the door. She gave a sort of half-smile before turning and walking out.

"Fucking get after her, you dozy wanksock!" cried both my brains in unison.

I left the safety and support of the nice solid wooden bar and pinballed my way across to the door and half-stumbled, half-fell down the stairs to the street, where the Girl was sitting on a bench with a couple of her friends. She watched with horror as I proudly regained my feet and stood there, swaying like a pendulum, looking for all the world like standing upright and unassisted would be my Greatest Achievement Ever.

Her and her friends scuttled off down the road towards the taxi stands while I stood there feeling like, well, that drunk bloke who's just seen what he thought was a sure thing leg it.


*Edit - I've removed the previous stuff because I've had enough of being made to feel a cunt for something stupid I did eleven years ago. Shouldn't have posted it in the first place and I will think rather more carefully about the content of any future posts.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:22, 7 replies)
I've never had a bad tally of chatting up girls..
...but only when I'm sober. I'm a sloppy mess when i'm drunk.

That aside, my girlfriend of 4 years is half-Japanese. Her mum's side of the family are all from Japan, and after some encouragement, I was persuaded to learn some basic Japanese. To date, I can only speak very basic conversational formalities, but its nice to be able to say hello and have a simple chat in an unusual language.

Anyway, all this is preamble to a recent epic failure in the world of flirting. I was down in London staying over at my sister's former home in Greenwich the night before flying to America on holiday, and I decided to go out and pick up some food for dinner. I took a wander close to her apartment, before spotting a nice looking little sushi den that had a takeaway sign in the window. Entering, I strode up to the (not at all unattractive) young asian woman stood in full kimono next to the counter, before deciding to impress her with my (not at all impressive) grasp of the Japanese tongue.

My next words were: "Konbanwa, watashiwa nanika tabetai des.."

which roughly translates to "Good evening, I'd like something to eat please" in English.

The girl blankly stared at me, and without skipping a beat replied "I'm Chinese."

The next 20 minutes waiting for my sushi to be prepared were a little awkward.

Length: The Great Wall...
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:12, 3 replies)

I'm always being accused of 'flirting' with people, when I think I'm just being friendly and outgoing, but it gets me into trouble.

Working in a busy coffee shop, I get to meet a variety of different people every day. Some nice, some not so nice, some downright disgusting. The weirdest was a guy who used to come in at 6.30 am, and order his drink. At that time in the morning, there wasn't too many people around, so we used to chat. Nothing flirty at all, in my eyes, the man was at least 20 years older than me, and smelled like a butchers. Part of my job is to be friendly to customers, believe me, I had no real interest in the guy. One day I put his drink up on the bar, when he grabs my wrist - not cool, but he wont release his grip. He leans in, and whispers: ' I'm sick of this sexual tension between us... call me', winks, and leaves me his number written on his receipt, and a nice bruise on my wrist to boot. Needless to say I never called him, and thankfully he never came in again. What I wanna know is what made him think it was ok to do that? Even if I had been flirting with him, grabbing my wrist was not the way to get in my pants.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:11, 1 reply)
Must Be Better Ways Of Breaking The Ice
She had the habit of playing with the ends of her long and incredibly-beautiful blonde hair. So, wanting to make conversation, it was only natural to ask: "Nits?"
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 22:09, 1 reply)
I was on a date...
My flatmate rings to check in and make sure he's not a crazy, etc. I laugh off the call and the conversation continues like so...

Me: 'Ha, sorry, that's just my mate, just checking in to make sure you're not, y'know, a rapist or anything, haha'
Fitty: 'That's fine, don't worry, I'm not a rapist'
Me: 'Haha, well, time will tell, haha'
Fitty: '...'

Yeah, surprisingly enough I never saw him again.
*bashes head against brick wall*

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 21:54, 2 replies)
I was promoting a beer in the pub I worked (read landlord was buying it in 8pound for a case of 24 and selling it 5 bottles for a tenner) and as is the case with 'promotions' you have to tart yourself up a bit (like I cared I was getting a cut of the profits...semi prostitution?), inevitably you would get the odd letch and try hard but one night, I was talking to a really lovely guy, bit of flirting both ways things are going good, I can feel good things in me water about this one then out of nowhere, he tells me, 'you are really pretty but your hair's a bit shit'. I really had no comeback and walked away with my shit hair held high.*
*cried in the toilets and wanked myself sore.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 21:36, 6 replies)
Is it just me
Or are we all terrified of being successful at flirting?

How many of you have had conversations that go something like this:

You: "I never seem to find the right person"
Attractive person that you totally fancy: "I'm totally the right person for you. I bet we'd be great together."
You: "Watch it! I might just take you up on that offer."
APTYTF: "Come on then, it's right here..."


You: "Hahahaha! No, but seriously..."

Guys. You're amazing. All of you. Really. Be confident in yourselves.

(Apart from you *points* obviously, you suck)
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 21:35, 3 replies)
Not a checkout girl
But it was in a supermarket checkout queue. Marks and Spencers in Winchester, October 1996.

Waiting to be served, person behind me pushes into me with their basket. I ignore it.

Happens again. I turn and glare at the person behind me. They smile and say sorry.

Happens again. I ignore it again.

Get served. As I get my shopping out of my basket, person behind me tries to make conversation about something or other. I grunt monosyllabically.

Pay. Leave.

An hour or so later, whilst eating my Marks boil-in-the-bag Sri Lankan curry, a few observations finally begin to form in my brain:

1) The person behind me was a young woman.
2) Quite a cute young woman in fact.

It's just as well that I was so hopelessly slow on the uptake though, as just a couple of weeks before then I'd had an email from a young lady in America who liked my homepage (remember them?), and fourteen years later we're very happily married. But I still can't tell when I'm being flirted with: just the other week I actually said to Mrs Vaino, "The other day when you came over and sat astride me on the sofa, did that mean you wanted to have sex?"
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 21:12, Reply)
College Party...
Pawlett Manor, Somerset, 1995. Drunken Elfi...

...girl sat alone whilst myself and three mates chat outside and have a drunken smoke. My three friends notice this young lass and instantly start betting each other (to the impressive state of £2 a time) to go and say something. Having had a few sherberts myself I found myself suddenly walking over to her and uttering words that lived on with my friends for quite sometime...

*slurred* "Hello, my mates are taking bets on who is going to chat you up, but I think you are worth more than that".

No I didn't pull her, one of my friends did annoyingly and that phrase haunted me for a good few years.

The next time we attended one of the infamous parties I managed to pull my mate the woman who would become his wife and someone for myself (although that took three weeks to work out).
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 20:51, 1 reply)
I'd had a hell of a midday session
on the cocktails, and I was now passed out on a train heading back home to the Midlands. Sprawled over the table, I woke up as the lights of a station were receding in the background, and the train was picking up speed.

Eyes full of sleep, I asked the vaguely humanoid shape in my fuzzy retinas sitting opposite me which station we'd just left.

She told me.

By the time we got off the train together 20 minutes later, we went for a drink.

Later that week, I shagged her.

A monumentally, nay uniquely for me, successful flirt...and I have no recollection of what I said.

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 20:21, Reply)
I'm great at flirting
I'm just useless at turning it into pulling.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 20:20, 4 replies)
Since a lot of these stories start with "I'm not good at flirting..."
...does anyone know anyone who actually is? It seems like a ritual constructed to create as many humiliating events as possible.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 20:09, 3 replies)
Oh my
I'm absolutely awful at flirting (oddly like most of the rest of B3ta it seems...) and what seem like absolute great lines tend to fall quite flat.

I'm also usually incapable of detecting when women are in to me too; unless they are being quite obvious about it.
I finally realised my last (now ex) girlfriend was interested when she smiled at my rather bad joke (I was nervous ok!) prompting me to kiss her. To be honest I didn't realise I was until I did - yay subconscious.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 20:08, Reply)
A couple of others...
There was the attractive girl in the pub on new years. I remember nothing of the forty-five minute conversation we (allegedly) had, but I'm told she spent most of it looking scared while I alternately ranted and stared. I hate drunkenness sometimes.

There was the speed dating last week. Got on really well with this girl, went on to a club, arm around her on the bus into town etc. When we get to the club, she fucks off. I wouldn't mind, but it's about the fifth time that's happened to me.

There was another girl, about a year ago. She was staying with some of her friends at the uni, and we were walking back to halls late at night when a car backfired loudly. "Fuck me!" she exclaimed. "All right then, if you want me to" I replied. *slap*.

But by far the worst, compared to which all of the above pale into insignificant specks, is the story of L.

We met at a house party some two years ago, and seemed to be getting on well. Late at night, when everyone was starting to drift off to sleep, she came and found me on the sofa. She leaned against me with a gentle sigh, and pulled my arm around her (did I mention that she is grade A stunning?) with a little sigh. Now, I don't know what came over me. I can't ever replay what I did next without putting my head in my hands. I thought to myself:

"Oh dear. She must be tired. I'll leave her to sleep".

And I left.

The story continues on the following night at another party two doors down. She gave me a fucking lap dance as well as handcuffing herself to me for half an hour and I didn't fucking take advantage.

The third time we met, I was slaughtered, and rambled on and on about depression as she looked more and more scared.

I was in the pub with her and some other friends a few months ago, and I can fairly categorically say she has given up on me. I can't say I blame her.

She is still stunning.

I am still a twat.

Edit: I reckon we should start a B3ta dating website. It would be awesome. We could recognize each other by means of furtive bear t-shirts.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 19:36, 5 replies)
I can't flirt

So get your tits out.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 19:25, Reply)
Drive Up Windows
Whenever our family would hit the Mickey D's drive up (or similar slop-on-wheels) if the disembodied voice on the other side was female, my dad would always be a smarmy flirt - right in earshot of us and our mom.

Used to drive mom crazy; not the flirting, she couldn't care; it was the fact that the food order would always be wrong. She thought it was because he got them "flustered"; I think it was because they stopped shy of spitting in the food, deciding rather to give us a McFish instead of a McCow.
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 19:01, Reply)
girl dancing at a club
mate walks over, stops in front of her and holds his arms open
girl stops, shakes her head and walks away from him
mate returned from the dance floor to my hysterical laughter
(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 18:34, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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