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February 25, 2010

The Bachelor Flirting School, A Lesbian Proposition and A Bad Date

http://www.jewishjournal.com/blog/item/the_bachelor_flirting_school_a_lesbian_proposition_and_a_bad_date_20100225/

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I will never understand men.  At some point I might just need to give up, because I fear it is just never going to happen for me.  I have a better chance of understanding my son’s 8th grade advanced algebra, than men, and trust me when I tell you, that will NEVER happen.

I went out for coffee with the guy from the oil change.  Here is a recap of the one of the best parts of our tantalizing conversation:

Him:  How long have you been divorced?
Me:  Years
Him:  Are your boobs real?
Me:  I beg your pardon?
Him:  Do you want to go to my place?
Me:  Are you for real right now?
Him:  Do you like to watch porn?
Me:  I‘m really sorry but I need to go.
Him:  Can you come out to my car for a minute?

We won’t be seeing each other anymore, and by not seeing him again, of course I mean I would rather rupture my own spleen with a letter opener, than see this man again.  I seriously thought I was on some hidden camera dating show.  Never again.

I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday to desperately figure out a way to live with a cat I love, but am allergic to.  I’m in the waiting area playing around on my iPhone,  not paying attention to anything around me.  The door opens so I look up.  A man comes in who is covered with tattoos. I catch myself staring, and look away.  As I turn away, I see a cute girl staring at me.

I assume she has also seen tattoo man and is giving me the “Did you just see that?” look.  I smile back with my “I totally saw him, how bizarre” look.  She makes some comment about the weather, and I make a joke about how nobody but me knows how to drive in the rain.

We start chatting and she comes over and introduces herself and we start talking about the heartache of being allergic to my cat.  She is listening, and being supportive, when all of a sudden she puts her hand on my arm and gives it a little squeeze.

I am thinking to myself that it was an oddly intimate touch. I’m being ridiculous, and start laughing at myself in my head, when she asks me for my number.  Really?  I seriously cannot tell when someone is a) flirting with me, or b) gay.  I panic for a split second, then shake it off.

I asked her is she is asking me for my number in a “go on a date” kind of way, and she said yes.  She thought I was cute and funny, and wanted to hang out and talk more.  Let me tell you, I was so incredibly flattered, that I leaned over and hugged her.

Whether you are gay or straight, and regardless of whether the person hitting on you is gay or straight, there are some days when it does not matter who is hitting on you, because it’s more important that you are being hit on at all.  Thank you for hitting on me Karen!

It really just made my day.  I am horrible at picking up the signs of someone hitting on me.  More horrendous than that, I am a disastrous flirter.  I just don’t know how to do it.  I am open and uninhibited, so people think I am constantly flirting, when really I’m just being myself.

I remember I was at a party once with about 20 couples, a sprinkle of gay men, and single me.  I made my way through the party, saying hello and chatting with everyone, and had a very nice time.  The next day the hostess told me all the wives thought I was flirting with their husbands.

At first I was mortified.  I would never flirt with someone’s man, and felt horrible that they would think poorly of me, but after I thought about it for a minute, I was thrilled!  They thought I was flirting!  I was happy to be considered a flirt at all, when I suck at it so bad.

What is so interesting, is that if those women had met me on their own, they would have said to their husbands that they met a fantastic girl who was the life of the party.  But since the husbands were there, seeing how fabulous I was, it became threatening.

Karen hitting on me, and that party, were essentially the same thing.  I felt bad someone was hurt, but at the same time, my ego was stroked.  I love Karen for taking a shot, and love the insecure and clingy women for thinking I had a shot with their husbands.

Here is a brilliant idea!  The women of The Bachelor should open a flirting school to extend their 15 minutes of fame.  The chicks on there are master flirters, and I could use the lessons.  Here is a list of classes that could be offered:

“How To Seduce A Man”, by Rozlyn
“How to Manipulate a Man Into Thinking You’re an Angel”, by Ali. 
“It’s Been A Long Time, But I Can Flirt Again”, by Tenley
“What Not To Do At A Party”, by Vienna
“How To Become A Lonely Cat Lady”, by Michelle
“How To Stop Drinking Before It Gets Messy”, by Christine

I am telling you Mike Fleiss, this could be huge.  This is the perfect next step in The Bachelor Empire that you are creating.  Remember who gave you the idea when the classes are sold out, and you are counting all your money!

I cannot look at my life and say that it is not interesting.  A little strange, and sometimes complicated, but never boring.  When I meet the man of my dreams, he will look at these blogs, understand me a little better, and hopefully love me a little more. 

It will happen one day.  I need to just relax, and keep the faith.

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