With all the pomp and fanfare of a fairy tale Queen walking amongst her subjects, her majesty 'The Sun' has decided to grace us with her presence. Halle-frickin-lulah!
It feels like my toes have been frozen blue for centuries and finally they are beginning to defrost. The only thing that's blue around here is the glorious sky and my sun-deprived thighs.
The most wondrous thing about these first few days of sunshine is that the whole world seems to jump up and down in celebration. We take to the beaches and parks in masses, like a swell of zombies, arms outstretched we follow the leader, slowly chanting, … "must…get…sunburn". It's bizarre, but marvelous.
Nothing is a problem when the sun is shining. The crowds don't bother us, getting out of bed is less of a chore and suddenly all is right with the world. It's a minor miracle. Of course this cheeriness only lasts until the hay fever knocks us all out like plague victims or indeed mid July arrives and it's so hot we're ready to strangle each other with our own bikini bottoms.
This is why these first few days are the perfect time to take advantage of the smiling hoards. Flirt with a person who is already in a great mood and half your job is already done. They're not likely to look up at you from beneath their winter scarf and eye you with suspicion, or worse, completely ignore you. They will be happy and ready to chat and, even if you don't score, you are unlikely to get an entirely negative reaction.
Psychologically this time of year works well too. Charming a potential flirtee in the summer sun creates an association that lasts long after the sun goes down. Each time they think of you they will automatically conjure up the happy feelings of the sunny day. You are forevermore linked in their mind as someone who makes them feel good. This is no doubt why holiday romances are so amazing in Benidorm but instantly fall flat the second you arrive back in Bolton.
If you're stuck for an 'opener' when wandering around the park I've got a corking idea – utilize the frozen dairy facilities, i.e. the ice-cream van. After all girls, asking hot boys to lick our Strawberry Mivvies is one of life's greatest pleasures.
And of course if the boy in question declines you can always enjoy a good lick without him, pleasuring yourself, one might say….
I often wonder if some people head home after a long days toil and spend their evenings whipping themselves and pulling out their toenails with tweezers. I'm truly convinced that certain horse-arsed people enjoy punishing themselves.
In the office of my day job (in between the times I'm flying over rooftops clad in a Lycra catsuit saving puppies from burning building etc) I sit opposite a particular girl and I would swear that she enjoys making life difficult for herself. Every morning I have to listen to her tales of romantic woe. It's one disaster after the other. And why? Because she's nuts! Subconsciously this woman doesn't want to meet anyone. Well she can't do, not to do the things she does.
Recently she decided she didn't like a guy because he asked her on a date to a rugby match.
Exactly. So what?
Well our moronic woman in question disapproves of rugby; she considers it dull and overly aggressive. So she took his invitation as a personal insult. She thought he was insinuating she was masculine. Idiot. Any normal person would think 'Well I don't really fancy that, so I will either A) suggest something else or B) go along because he has been kind enough to invite me and you never know, doing something different could be fun'. But not our girl, no no. It was out with the mobile phone and a curt call to tell him "No way pal" and never to contact her again. Harsh!
I don't think this lady is alone however. I think that at a certain point we become a little set in our ways. We become less willing to bend.
In many ways this is not a bad thing. All the lunacy that we were prepared to put up with when we were teenagers (in my case the unwashed clothes, lack of money, personality or intelligence just as long as they were cool) becomes a definite no no. But after a couple of bad eggs it is possible to start looking for any teeny tiny problem and use it as an excuse to discount a person. Like the proverbial bear, honey, and door, this is a trap best avoided.
I am not necessarily the most tolerant person, but when I am online, chatting away with a fit guy and he mentions that his hero is John Major, or perhaps that he enjoys tap-dancing, I force myself to ignore it and move on with the conversation. After all, I've been known to enjoy the odd game of scrabble in my time and I even have a signed picture of Michael Bolton knocking around somewhere. So clearly, not one of us, (even me!) could be considered absolutely 100% perfect.
A gazelle bounding carelessly over desert plains on her long, lithe, legs.
A train of sweeping crushed silk, effortlessly chasing its bride.
A gentle summer breeze, softly plucking a velvety petal from its bud.
Never have any of these descriptions ever been used to describe the way I walk.
Great guffawing lump. Frequently.
Lurching danger to children and animals. Even more so.
But not once have I been described as elegant. Not once.
Up until recently my lack of co-ordination has been nothing more than another aspect of my being, just one more thing than make me different to the next 'Susan Blonde and Curly'.
However, on my way to work last week I was lolloping along in my usual fashion when I happened (as I regularly do) to tread upon the heel of the poor soul walking in front of me. Well of course if you live in a big city then these occurrences are commonplace and so he didn't even break his stride. That is, until I did it a second time,….and then a third!
At this point he swung on his 'abused' heels to stare at me. Eek. I of course cringed and apologised profusely. He nodded his acceptance and returned to his journey, phew,…. only for me to stooopidly do it again!
"Oh Lord, what evil crime did I commit in my previous life to deserve such punishment?"
He swung around and, shockingly, he smiled, " I'm beginning to think you are doing this on purpose to catch my attention" . "No no no" I pleaded "It was an accident. I’m a clumsy idiot. I'm so sorry"
Fortunately he laughed and it seemed he really did think I had done it on purposed because he asked if I fancied buying him a coffee by way of an apology. Well on this occasion I made my excuses (mainly because he had the distinct odor of month old kebab about him) but it did give me sneaky little idea… oh yes, you guessed it – in the hope that I may meet a chap who smells somewhat sweeter I've spent the last few days treading on more heels than I could wave a sausage at!
So far I've only come across stony glares and one very aggressive jogger (perhaps running behind him for ten miles stepping on a heel every 500 metres was iota too much) but I'm sure that in principle it works!
So if you are stuck for a way to start a conversation with someone you spot on the street, why not engineer a small accident - don't push them into oncoming traffic or anything, Heavens no, but try a few small nudges with your elbow, or, of course, the classic 'heel scrape'. It could well be just the very thing to get you noticed.
My brother once bestowed upon me his most sacred piece of dating advice. He said,
"Always plump for a partner who is uglier than you. This means they are less likely to find someone more attractive and ditch you." Charming. However, he also advised gulping a pint of sour milk daily because it would make my boobs grow and that strapping myself to an ironing board to surf down concrete steps would be great fun and in no way dangerous.
In case you hadn't gathered, his advice is somewhat questionable. Fortunately for me the ever-lingering taste of sour milk and my 5 chipped ribs have alerted me to this fact, so sensibly, I ignore his nonsense.
I say, go for someone you well fancy, then, even if they do leave you, to other people you'll automatically appear better looking. It's handsomeness by-proxy. "Well if Johnny Fit Knickers dated her then she's gotta be worth a crack" – is the bizarre route of logic we often follow. Don't ask me why it's true but it is.
In fact a somewhat facially under-blessed boy once managed to snare my affections by pretending he was seeing a really beautiful girl. He casually left photos of her around, chatted nonchalantly about their dates and pondered on the dilemma of her yearning for commitment in juxtaposition with his desire merely to boff her.
Well I of course was astounded. What could she see that I couldn’t? His girlfriend really was stunning; surely she could pull someone much fitter than him? What could be so special it overshadowed his insanely hairy ears and mouth so pinched it were as if he was sucking the milk from a hamsters nipple.
Being of a curious mind, I needed to know!
So I flirted like a woman possessed. He soon got the hint and we went out… sadly he struggled to uphold his game and it transpired rather quickly that the other girl was entirely fictional - so all that remained was a rather unattractive gent and a somewhat disappointing tongue sandwich. Unsurprisingly, I moved on. But he put a damned good effort and with a bit more skill he could have pulled it off.
Undertaking this ‘handsomeness-by-proxy’ technique on a regular basis, one fitty after the other, could see you work your way up the ratings ladder to score a perfect ten.
Of course as my tale above demonstrates, for this method to work it is necessary to ensure all of your dates know each other, otherwise your ‘fit partner’ is nothing but hearsay, and once you start going through a few of them you may indeed become well known for other reasons. Not entirely so favorable. So tread carefully.
We all have our own range of particular flirting skills that we roll out time after time knowing we are guaranteed success. Each person with a set as individual as fingerprints – well, almost – and each tending to represent the personality of the flirtee. Flirting can be demonstrated through shy, subservient behaviour; brash, confident actions or overtly sexual body language. Each method working in its own unique way.
As the years have whizzed through my life like a dog on a skateboard my own personal set of skills has changed. Mainly because the things I want from my men have also changed. Once it was all about taut chests and square jaws, now it's more about interesting banter and intelligent wit (I'm sorry if you are under 22 years old, but it happens to us all, really, it does). So now when I set my sights on a goal I no longer just push out my boobs and invite him for a drink. No no. I play a different game entirely.
I need to get the measure of a man before I decide to go in for the kill. Physical attraction still plays a (very) key part, but it is followed by a bit of sussing out and a significant amount of metaphorical circling – not dissimilar to a lioness prowling around a lone antelope with a dodgy leg.
Said circling can involve spending a bit of time making friends with the man in question. Often avoiding too much overtly flirtatious body language until I am sure about him. If and when I make the decision to pounce, the resulting 'reveal' has to be a little subtler.
A favourite option for me is to buy gifts. Small gifts. Silly gifts. Nothing that is going to break the bank. A book I think he would like or a dumb toy that reminds me of him. It shows I understand him and boys seem to like that!
Then, when I've got him on the end of my hook, I reel him in.
Keeping on the theme of gifts I begin to buy presents with a small element of 'sauce'. Again they are small and silly, my top-tip - one of those daft pens with a girl inside that you turn upside down and her bikini disappears! It highlights that I have a saucy side and that it is ready and willing to be gainfully employed! If he doesn't get the hint first time I move onto something even saucier (but still comedic) a pop up Karma Sutra or such like. Fingers crossed he begins to get the picture and returns these gifts with some of his own. Before you know it we are exchanging naughty underwear and the intention could not be clearer.
As far as I am concerned, this new technique of mine is up there with one of the best I've ever had. My only word of warning being this: ensure you don't open these gifts in front of colleagues, relatives or the elderly. It's true; a pair of nipple clamps could perhaps be passed off as a set of jump-leads but a giant vibrating penis is going to be somewhat trickier to explain.
Flirtation is essentially an indirect (and somewhat fancy-pants) way of giving and receiving compliments.
"Hi, you're proper fit and I fancy the bones of ya" are the words you're not saying. Offering to buy a drink and flicking your hair like a banshee at full moon is the way your body shouts it from the hilltops.
We all love getting compliments, in whatever form they come, and this is why it is sometimes hard to resist a little bit of flirting …even when you are in a relationship.
But this is not necessarily the cardinal sin it may initially seem.
A smidge of light flirting here and there can leave you feeling damn attractive – which, after several years with the same person, you may very rarely feel.
And, as long as your partner isn't the crazy 'drown you in the bath' jealous type, it never hurts for them to be reminded that other people fancy your cute arse too. It may even serve to pep up your relationship.
My best trick is to walk into a bar a few steps ahead of my guy. As I walk I make eye contact and smile broadly at men when I pass, they are bound to smile back and some will even turn and stare. My man hasn't spotted my encouragement of course. He has just seen a whole heap of guys turn their heads at his missus. Score.
However, if you take it even an iota too far you will be treading on very dodgy ground. Even if you don't intend to, letting somebody think there is a chance you may give them access to your under-crackers is not clever and could land you in a whole heap of trouble - not least if your partner finds out.
Flirting too regularly with the same person can also be a risky business, as it may make your feelings for them become more intense. Find yourself alone with them after a vino or two and your resolve could be tested to the extreme. Temptation is often a tricky beast to ignore and is best avoided from the off.
The crux of the matter is that flirting when attached is a case-by-case situation; with every partner, potential flirtee and flirter affecting the outcome.
In the main I would say "go for it" but do use your noggin and exercise a little caution.
Certainly don't do what I did a few years ago – I flirted outrageously with my boss for weeks, despite being ass- over-boob in love with my boyfriend. Well, when he eventually made his inevitable move, I of course had to turn him down and explain in excruciating detail just why I thought it was perfectly ok to tease him in such a manner!
Yet another job in my chequered career history that I had to leave because of my foolish flirtations! Idiot.
The animal world employs all manner of queer ways to attract the opposite sex.
Pheasants parade their fancy-pants feathers, deer smash their heads together like conkers on string and baboons wave their enormous red buttocks in the faces of anyone they remotely fancy. Odd.
When us humans find a person we want to bone we often display our attraction through dancing.
On any given night you can sit in a club or bar and spot, clear as day, who is likely to be heading home with whom, just from the way they dance together.
It's such a brilliant way to dip a toe in the proverbial flirting waters. Any guy can spy a hot bird across a dance floor and slowly sidle his way towards her. Catching her eye he can momentarily dance enthusiastically in her direction and if she chooses to dance along with him it could easily become a 'Fred and Ginger' situation. However, if she eyeballs his moves and responds by dancing in the opposite direction it's not a positive state of affairs. But now he can just moonwalk his way back to his side of the room without the humiliation of direct rejection and having never spoken a word. What a wonderful thing
As for the girls! What a fab excuse to wave gyrating backsides in the direction of fit boys - much like the humble baboon of course, just without the red buttocks…well, in most cases that is.
This happy fandango is all well and good for those of us with hips that swivel so marvellously it's as if they are independent to ones own body, but what about those who are as uncomfortable on the dance floor as a walrus in a ball pit.
A lack of talent in this department can make the most heavenly face morph into someone so unattractive even 'Blind Drunk Betty-' with the hook nose and third eye - would steer clear.
If you are one of said 'flailing idiots' then there are but two routes you should take.
1. Never attempt to use dancing as a flirting technique. By all means dance with your mates – who gives a flying cheese puff what you look like when you dance with them – but avoid anyone you consider even remotely hot.
2. Go for the comedy angle. You're bad and you know you are. So play on it. Attempt a Michael Flatley routine; grab your crotch in a Wacko Jacko stylee, get the whole room doing the hokey cokey. Just make it clear you are fully and comprehensively aware of how bad you are. Your blatant lack of shame will be admired!
If the two options above fail to work, you could always follow in the footsteps of the baboon and get your bum out. Well you never know, if it works for monkeys…
Thousands of years ago a beardy man with some bloody good ideas went and got himself nailed to a cross. He did this in order to atone for all the dumbass stuff us bunch of idiots do. Or so the story goes…
And so every Easter we buy each other chocolate eggs in order to acknowledge this sacrifice.
Hang on a minute. Let's think about this for a second, Jesus had to endure a slow painful death, strung up on a couple of planks of wood…and we repay him by scoffing a load of chocolate. It hardly seems like a fair exchange!
So why not actually show you appreciate the gruesome end to which he so readily gave Himself and, come Easter Sunday, head down to church. Well once a year won't kill you will it?
In fact, even if you don't believe in the 'greatest story ever told' church may make an interesting change of scenery for your flirtations.
Ok so church isn't exactly well known for being a hotbed of sexual tension – which is fair enough when for the most part we believe it to be full of grannies and men with beards and bad breath. BUT I think we are missing a trick here. The negative press 'godbotherers' get is doubtless unwarranted. There are all sorts of interesting and young people who spend their Sundays in church. And just imagine all the fun you could have livening up a slightly dull sermon by winking cheekily over your hymnbook at the fit guy in the next pew.
Churches also tend to have lots of groups and events that can be good to get involved in if you have moved to a new area or are stuck for fresh and random things to do. Always friendly people, these chaps will be over the frickin' moon to see a new face. If you don't happen to agree with the religious thinking it's a good place to discuss the ins and outs of your opinions.
There is nothing like a good debate to get the emotions flowing. And once you have emotion with a person – be it positive or negative – you are on a surefire journey toward flirthood. Bantering your thoughts back and forth stimulates the brain and when you find someone who gets your brain juices going the erhem 'other' juices are seldom far behind!
So you see, suggesting church as a new place to find flirtatious fun may seem a bit odd to begin with, but if the old staples – the pub, the office, mates of mates – aren't working for you, then this may be an exciting new option. Fresh and engaging conversation, people with passion in their hearts and even a bit of a sing song. I mean really, what more do you want……?
What's that you say? A biscuit and a drop of wine? It sounds to me like all your prayers have been answered!
Happy Easter chaps. Whatever you do, enjoy it.
All of us, men and women alike, are forced by Mother Nature to endure the embarrassment of physical imperfection and somewhat unpleasant bodily function – if this were not the case we would simply be giant Barbie Dolls and Action Men - which is all well and good on the surface because those dudes are undoubtedly easy on the eye, but under those lower garments it’s as smooth as mustard down there…
No fun at all.
So as gross as it might seem and as much as we may deny it, we all have to use the loo – front and back bottom. We also need to break-wind now and again - otherwise we'd all blow up like helium balloons and keep banging our heads on the ceiling. And even if we are discreet enough to control these emissions during the day, when we are asleep our body cares not a jot for social etiquette and will happily let us trump away like a tuba in the Albert Hall. And speaking of sleep, what of snoring!? In the dead of night even the most delicate princess can sound like a foghorn on overdrive.
Now, rest assured I haven't morphed into a teenage boy, the reason for my preoccupation with all matters 'euurrgghh' is because a chum is off on a first 'weekend away' with a boy… and this has started the old brain-cogs a’ turning.
With a new partner we spend the first few months ensuring we smell as fresh as the morning dew, squeezing in wind and whizzing off all those stray hairs. We never really let ourselves go, so a weekend away together can come as a big shock.
Unless you eat 300 poached eggs on the Thursday, you are never going to go from Friday to Monday without having to visit the loo for more than a quick pee - and in a hotel room with an obscenely close en-suite it is going to be painfully obvious what you are up to. Urggh.
You may also find that the length of time continuously spent together may lead to some unconcious relaxing. If you forget yourself for a second the odd belch may rear its bile-like head, or you may allow a rogue finger to make an exploratory journey up a nostril.
All of these things, whilst concerning, are not worth getting your knickers-in-a-twist over. If you endure this perilous weekend and you find that 'morning stubble legs' or the occasional parp don't really bother either of you too much, you may actually be in a relationship that stands a chance.
Just make sure you don't poo in the bed – an act accidentally performed by an ex-boyfriend of mine that really was a bodily function too far!
But that's a story for another day…..
If you live in London or indeed one of the other many major cities that blight our green and pleasant land, you will very likely be familiar with the concept of the 'daily commute'. A very special time of day when usual social parameters are thrown aside like so many MacDonald's gherkins. Eye contact is strictly avoided for fear of being turned to stone. The concept of personal space becomes laughable as you frequently find your nose way too close to the nose of another - all too often forcing your nostrils to be invaded by the fetid breath of a man with a love of garlic and cigarettes, yet your choice is this or the rancid armpit of a morbidly obese whale woman.
It is despicable and I hate it.
However, I wonder if you, like me, have found your own special way to distract yourself from the thoroughly bummy nature of the situation.
I've discovered that because I always travel on the same train at the same time in the same carriage it is possible to build up a little flirtatious relationship with a total stranger. And what better way to start your day than with a little 'wink-wink nudge -nudge'.
Of course the trick is to find the right guy. It's worth changing your regular carriage once or twice to check out your options. And make sure you look at everybody - this is an occasion when all you have to worry about is appearance. You are never going to strike up a relationship with this person so you don’t need to concern yourself with their personality, their marital status, or their job. Just find a fitty.
Then, it's all about subtlety. You don't want to shove your genitals under their nose (what a horrid thought) or even start a conversation. It's simply in the body language. And this is a slow burner.
Start by catching their eye….
Then catch it and hold it – just for a moment….
Hopefully you'll get a reaction from them – a second look back at you being the clearest signal.
Gradually, over days, build up the looks to be more lingering and frequent and perhaps add a wry smile now and again. Be certain not to let anyone else spot it and make sure you head to a different carriage on hangover days. You need to look ravageable at all times!
If the train is really full you can try standing a bit closer together. The tension will be amazing. Being so close with a little secret between you yet not allowing yourselves to touch one another….. mmmm…. the air will sizzle.
Do make sure you are strictly hands off however, there is a name for people who rub themselves against strangers on trains and it isn't good!
What a way to liven up the hideousness of a Monday morning though! Flirting with a stranger on your way to work has surely got to be up there with chocolate cheesecake and Lionel Ritchie as one of life's greatest pleasures.