Because I am a serial under dater, a lot of my skills have gone to shit.
Before I tell you what an embarrassment I am to my former self, let me explain the concept of “under dating.” By that I don’t mean I don’t date enough (though, if I ever want to have a whorish phase that I missed in college, I likely want to step my game up). I mean, I perpetually date people I know good and well things will go nowhere with. That doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I just walk into things perpetually aware that I won’t like them for any substantial amount of time. Part of that is because I seem to have relationship ADD; I’ve been known to wake up one morning completely over someone I was into the day before. And yes, I know most will say you have to date people for a little while to see if things will progress into something more. And for some people this may be true. But generally it takes me about 15 minutes to figure out if I will never speak to you again, fuck you and never speak to you again, date you for a little while then never speak to you again or introduce you to my mama.
Lately it seems like once I shrewdly determine that the person I am entertaining will fall into one of those first 2 categories, I Kanye shrug and accept a second date anyway. And I guess because I am not invested in any real, substantial way, it is quite easy for me to be my funny, charming self. I don’t have to try. Because I’m not profoundly invested in the outcome.
And that practice has profoundly bitten me in the ass.
I am pretty sure I have forgotten how to flirt. And I don’t mean flirting like batting my eyelashes and cooing at a bouncer. I mean I have no idea how to sustain the rhythm of that witty, mildly sexual, volley that happens with someone you are ACTUALLY interested in. It’s like right in the middle of it when I try to find a sharp, charming response, I am all Homer Simpson around the head…
And that is NOT who I am. Anyone who knows me knows I can talk my way out of (and into) anything. I always know what to say. I know when not to say anything. I never NOT have a response. I am generally quick on my feet enough to be alluring to someone who wants to see me slow on my back. Now though, notsomuch.
Guy: *insert flirty, sexual remark*
La: *blank stare*
Guy: Did you hear me?
La: Yes! *confused face, blinks slowly*
Guy: That is the most epic blank stare I have ever seen.
Oh, yeah. THAT HAPPENED. (I’d tell you the remark he made, but this is a family blog.)
This type of thing keeps happening to me with astonishing regularity. And every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME, I have that moment where I ask myself, “What the fuck was that?” Or better yet, that moment when HOURS LATER I come up with some insanely clever response and I am DYING to say it late as hell if for no other reason than to prove that I am not in fact slow as the offspring of first cousins.
I really brought this on myself. This is what I get for years of being lazy with people I knew there was no chance of me getting attached to. Iverson had it all wrong (clearly); practice is essential.
Your girl is out here failing.