Tag Archives: flirting

What Goes On Tour…

…evidently doesn’t stay on tour, as my girlfriends have been pestering me to write a  post about our recent weekend away to Galway. Now, I’d like to think this is testament to my writing skills and the fact that I’m funny as fuck, but as a group we do like to reminisce about good times, so I feel it’s more a case of them all wanting to have it all noted down somewhere for posterity and those times  when they need a chuckle.

Further more, my memories of that weekend are seriously patchy in part, as my age is catching up with me and I now have a brain that turns to swiss cheese when I’ve been drinking. But here goes…

First of all let me introduce the key cast members*:

Fergie – Co-Lead

Martha – Co-Lead

Leona – Co-Lead

Anne – Co-Lead

Al – The Bar Tender

Lovely Jim

Noah – Boat builder

Hot Dude – a hot, er, dude

GAA Boy

Joe – GAA Boy’s Younger Brother

The Krankees – Teeny, tiny couple that we saw everywhere

The Captain

Rowley Birkin QC

The English Rose – Al the Bar Tender’s GF

*All names have been changed to protect the guilty

Now, I’m going to split this over a few posts because it’s just too long to put into one overall post – what can I say, we crammed a lot in.  The chapters will be thus:

Friday – It’s Groundhog Day

Saturday – Coo Coo Ca Choo Mrs Robinson

Sunday & Monday – 15 Hour Party People

Try not to judge… it was probably much worse than I’ve been able to relay here.

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Flirting with disaster

Hello, my name is curlydena and I’m a flirtaholic.

Actually, that’s not strictly true. I’m not addicted to flirting, I just do it a lot apparently. With friends, people on the phone, the bus driver, the 70+ year old dude I bought a packet of smokes from at the weekend, the list goes on. The point is, I’m pretty much an omniflirter – my flirting is utterly lacking in any form of discernment at all. It’s what you could call a pretty scatter-gun approach.

Therein lies the rub though. People misunderstand my flirting and mistake it for more than it is. I don’t flirt in a predatory way though, AT ALL, especially as I’m more than likely to be totally oblivious to the fact I’m doing it. In my world I’m just being friendly and bubbly and all that sort of jazz, but in the eyes of others I’m being flirty. So, to figure out how to reign it in I guess I should look at what constitutes flirting exactly?

According to “sexpert” (and oh my f*cking word, what a claim to fame that is, I don’t think) Tracey Cox, you know a woman is flirting when:

“She’s attracted if . . .

  • She’s looking at your mouth
  • She’s lightly stroking her outer thigh
  • She starts massaging her neck
  • She flashes her wrists
  • She stands with her legs apart, weight on one foot, hips tilted
  • She starts invading your space with objects
  • She darts short, repetitive glances your way”
  • (Source: Superflirt – Tracey Cox http://short.ie/tvjvca )

    Now, I’ll admit to being a tactile person, that’s just me letting you know I’m comfortable with you more than anything, and I do massage my neck a lot, but that’s mainly because I am REALLY overdue a visit to the Osteopath to sort out my shit posture. I don’t however, go around standing with my legs apart, lightly stroking my own thighs, that kind of stuff can get a person arrested! And I don’t invade people’s spaces with objects – nor am I aware of any of my girl friends having ever built a wall of clutter around a person to signal their interest in them.

    So the mystery continues. After ooh, about 3 minutes thinking it over though, I think I am considered flirty for the following reasons mainly:

    • I’m fairly tactile
    • I like to look people in the eye when talking to them and smile
    • I have a total love of mischief
    • I have a fairly pesky sense of humour
    • I just am – it’s clearly part of my DNA or something

    I’m not about to change any of these though, they’re a basic part of who I am, especially the DNA bit. What does this mean? Well, I’m going to carry on flirting my way through life really. The day’s always that bit nicer with a bit of flirty banter though, I reckon. Sod it, it er, perks me up anyway. Meanwhile, people are free to mis-interpret it all they want too; and they do, but that’s fine. While the world thinks I fancy everyone I come across, I know when I’m genuinely interested in someone, as ironically enough, they tend to be the people I get the most shy around & wait for them to make a move – kind of like the female equivalent of “Field of Dreams” I like to think, haha.

    So, in conclusion. I’m a flirt. I like being a flirt. A mischievous, funny, harmless flirt. And I shall continue flirting in my own inimitable way. I will not however, be standing legs akimbo & stroking my own thighs, whilst simultaneously building a woman-made wall made of randomly found jetsam around a person – all sounds like too much effort for me.

    And to the next person I clam up around totally – I’ve built it, the rest is up to you.