Little town flirt

I have officially delved back into the alcoholic world, but it’s not something I planned on fighting for the last week of this trip. I went to a house party thing and had a really deep conversation with someone I had just met and vented a whole lot of shit that I probably haven’t even told my therapist.

We ate Chinese food, which I haven’t had since my 18th birthday dinner, when my brother had forgotten the plans, turned up stoned, and insisted that his honey prawn dish was actually a honey dessert but with prawns in it.

We then watched star trek which gave me a whole lot of nostalgia for being 10 years old and staying up til 5am watching the next generation on nick at nite, a long with Mary Tyler Moore, Frasier, and for some reason, HR Puff-n-Stuff. No wonder I don’t remember the breakfast shows that most of my friends remember. Fuck I was a weird kid.

I’ve come to appreciate the subtle differences in flirting styles between English, Australian, and American men. Let’s call them culturally established non-verbal messages. When you like a guy, you flirt, and if your potential mate responds, you flirt more. I don’t consciously think about my flirting, I just do it, but I guess if you’re a sociopath reading this and want to know how regular people communicate non-verbally; flirting signals might be touching their hand for a second longer than usual, looking at them when something makes you laugh, or smiling at them for no reason.

When it comes to reading a response, Australian men are easy peasy: they tease you. That’s it. They take the piss out of you, and you know you’re in. You can then coast off this established attraction for the rest of the night, teasing each other as much as you can, safe in the knowledge that you’ll end up shagging. English men are a bit different, and will instead ignore you for approximately six months to a year. Then, on a random evening, when you have almost given up hope, they will crack open like an egg and confess that they actually have always liked you but didn’t want to assume you liked them. American men, it seems, will just kiss you right in the face.

Whatever, I’m not complaining.

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