There are two kinds of people in this world:
- Those of us who struggle with talking to really, really, really good looking people
- Those of us who are liars
And within those two categories, there are two more kinds of people:
- Those of us who prefer wordy blog posts describing girls making weird noises
- Those of us who prefer watching videos of girls making weird noises
That’s just the way of the world. Once you know where you fall in those two categories, you’ll know how you approach any problem. Any problem related to really, really, really good looking people and girls who make weird noises, anyway.
If you found that you were the first kind of person both times, here is a long blog post about talking to the most handsome man in the world!
If you found that you were the first kind of person the first time and the second kind of person the second time, here’s this:
And if you found yourself in the second group the first time, well…
Nobody likes a dirty, rotten liar.
The word “flirt” has always sounded like a gross bodily function to me. Like something you don’t talk about in polite company and certainly not something you do in front of people you have a crush on. If you find yourself flirting often and without shame, you should seek medical attention.
Nice people don’t flirt.
Only nice people do flirt, and some of them do it for fun. And even though I felt totally disgusting, I said the word “flirt” approximately 7,463 times in the newest episode of Life & Steph so we could talk about the weird, weird weirdness of the whole business.
That video is 14 minutes long. It’s got a cameo appearance by Tommy Lee Jones and a subplot involving an old-timey radio show. It’s pretty in-depth, is what I’m saying. But there’s one super-important, super-confusing element of flirting that I didn’t get into in the video.
There have been a couple occasions when I’ve found myself talking to a real cutie-patootie but I’m not sure if it’s the time or the place to whip out that classic Stephanie charm (which mostly involves choking on my own spit and covering my forehead vein with various strategically placed objects — large handbags, small animals, you get the idea.) So I made this little quiz!
Should You Flirt with This Person?
1. How old are they?
a. My age, probably? The lights are dim
b. Very, very old
c. Distressingly young
2. Where are you?
a. A fun party!
b. My therapist’s office!
c. A funeral!
3. What’s the mood?
a. Fun and fearless. Like two-thirds of Cosmo
b. There isn’t really a mood, but there is a weird smell and for a second I thought it was coming from me. It’s not, though. For the record
4. Is this person working and maybe only being receptive to you because of that?
c. They assure me they’ve never held a job
5. Are they in a situation where they might feel uncomfortable if you flirt with them?
a. They are conveniently alone. But not so alone that me walking over to them would be threatening or anything
b. Their parents and grandparents are present
c. Their priest is here
6. Is this person married or in a committed relationship?
a. Everyone likes it, but no one’s put a ring on it
b. I attended their wedding yesterday, but a lot can change in 24 hours. Just ask Kiefer Sutherland.
c. I’m not sure, but they have a giant tattoo of someone’s face and I’m pretty sure I see the same face across the room glaring at me.
If you answered mostly a’s, you can flirt with this person! I’m not sure how. Try choking on your spit.
If you answered mostly b’s, you probably shouldn’t flirt with this person. It’s just not the right time. Give it a decade or four.
If you answered mostly c’s, I’m very sorry for your loss. Also, please step away from the tattooed child.
I’ll be the first to admit that I can be cocky.
I’m certainly not egotistical about everything — most of my life is spent self-consciously over-analyzing everything I do. (For example, I forgot the word “party” earlier today and said “shebang” instead and it’s been haunting me for 11 hours now. Shebang.) There are a few areas, though, in which I have such complete confidence in myself that even I find it annoying.
Areas in which I Am Cocky
- I’m a pretty good writer.
- I’m a really good Google searcher.
- I have the PLU code for bananas memorized a decade after leaving the grocery industry. It’s not really a big deal. Quit applauding, you’re making me blush.
I’ve been alive for more than a quarter of a century and I have no idea who I am.
Sure, I know some stuff about me. I know what I like — animals, smoothies, puns — and I know what I dislike — snakes, human papillomavirus, celery. I know I’m five-foot-four. (Fine. I’m five-foot-three-and-a-quarter.) I know I’m a brunette. (Fine. I know I’m blonde and ashamed of it.) I know my people came from Oklahoma, and way before that some of them were kicked out of Scotland. I know I’m good at writing and bad at confrontation. I know I don’t believe in ghosts unless I’m in a creepy basement and that I believe in miracles since you came along.
- A computer killed itself during the production of this episode. I don’t think that was a reflection on the quality of the jokes.
- This is the 3,000th video I’ve forced my kid brother to participate in against his will. I also make him mow the lawn at my house, because I am afraid of the lawn mower. Sometimes I buy him candy to make up for this behavior.
- I have yet to find a bug that’s cool enough to make people want to be my friend.
P.S., A true friend of mine would subscribe to Life and Steph. Hint, hint.