Gone are the days when you knew a boy really liked you – he took your home phone number, called two days later, spoke to your dad, then you, while your younger siblings ease dropped.
With mobile phones things get complicated. Flirting through text can mean nothing at all other than an ego boost to whoever the uninterested party is. And hey, thanks to so-called ‘feminism’ boys can slam doors in our faces, make us pay for dinner and never call after a date.
Boo hoo us! These, of course are not revelations, but you’d think that in 2010 I’d be sussed enough to know when to make the move…
This dilemma came the other night at a work event the drinks flowing, small talking was mandatory and avoiding the canapés while detoxing was impossible. A short but oh so sexy hottie was giving me the eye… or so I think.
A couple of eye conversations later, I wondered how I could give him my number. Was he really checking me out or did he have something in his eye? He was in a little group and it was just too tough to tell what my next move should be.
Going straight up there seemed a bit presumptuous and a teeny bit desperate, so I walked away. I felt as deflated as you do when you’re on the escalator going down, hot guy opposite is going up and checks you out. What can you do – you’re in different directions.
I miss the days where a guy would just walk straight up to you, ask you to dance/for your number/what the dowry was, at least then it banished the uncomfortable feeling of silly texts that mean nothing or teasing stares that have left me wistful…
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My pleasure to come across your blog and read it, keep posting.
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