On Flirting (Or How Whiskey Makes Me Frisky)
Let me make something abundantly clear before I write this: I am horrible at flirting. Not alright, not bad, horrible. When I meet someone I like, I come up with something hilarious to say in my mind, but by the time it reaches my mouth, well it turns into an awkward shamble of words that make me look like a loony that’s escaped from the loony bin.
This doesn’t stop me from trying, however. If I meet someone at a bar, it’s even worse. Drunk me thinks that I am hilarious and sexy and full of great, witty anecdotes. Drunk me is wrong.
Whilst on my travels, I have had several opportunities to flirt and hit it off with people I have met. Each time, however, something has gone horribly awry.
For example: Thailand. I don’t want to divulge too much here, but I will try and paint a clear picture of my failed attempts. The first attempt was on one of my first nights on tour. We were exploring the Phuket nightlife, visiting bar after bar on the busy Bangla Road. As it was my first night out on holiday, I was buzzing from too many cocktails and in the mood to have a crazy night. Two of the other girls on my tour had the same mindset and as we sipped our “Woo Woo’s” (Thailand Cocktails made of… well I can’t remember) we scoured the party for any potentially cute guys. Unfortunately all three of us took a liking to one guy in particular. You know that saying, “nice girls finish last”? well- it’s true. I backed out of the competition, figuring there was no way I could compete with either of these girls (They were both beautiful and exuding confidence I didn’t have) and decided to call it a night. Well, I wish I hadn’t. Even though I doubt it would have changed anything (did I mention how awful I am at flirting, anyway?) I still wish I could have at least tried. Y’never know, the afformentioned guy could have secretly been attracted to a complete ditz like me.
The second attempt was far worse. And mortifying. I haven’t actually told anyone this story yet, because it is just that embarrassing. On one of the nights out, our tour headed over to a Swedish nightclub (why we went to a swedish nightclub in Thailand, I’ll never fully understand) and we spent the night partying with a group of swedish and australian tourists. While the rest of my friends where breaking it down on the dancefloor, I slipped away to a quiet table at the back of the bar. A cute swedish guy came over and we started chatting. Amidst all of his bad english, the blaring music and the fact that I was tipsy, we started to flirt. I was impressed with myself. This guy was pretty good-looking, and I’d never flirted with a Swede before. I thought I was onto something, and my confidence was boosting, when another guy strolled over and proceeded to MAKE OUT with the Swede. Yes, that’s right ladies and gentlemen, I had been making moves on a gay guy the entire night. All the while the two other girls were having a blast with previous flirt attempt. I called it a night, yet again.
Since arriving in Canada, my flirting has not improved in the least. Not only have I caught myself saying some really silly things, but I am also bad at making judgement calls. I really need to learn on when to give up. After all there is a fine line between being flirty, and just being desperate.
That being said, I don’t regret my cringeworthy chat-up lines or awful anecdotes. This is who I am. I am Roxanne, the awkward ditz that has a wildly innapropriate imagination at the best of times. I might be a bit of a “nervy-spaz” when it comes to flirting, but hopefully one day someone will find that quality endearing and not completely terrible.
one day *
But until then, have I ever mentioned how Whiskey makes me frisky? also, do you come here often? ;)