You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Flirting » Page 9 | Search
This is a question Flirting

Do you flirt with check-out girls just for the heck of it? Are you a check-out girl and flirt with sad-looking middle-aged men for fun? Are you Vernon Kay? Tell us about flirting triumphs and disasters

Thanks to Che Grimsdale for the suggestion

(, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 13:00)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I'm fine at flirting
...when it's not face to face. Over the phone I'm great (turned an incredibly grumpy middle aged woman to giggling like a school girl in the first 42 seconds of a call before - a record that still stands in the call centre) but in person I turn into Hugh Grant's stuttering, stammering retarded brother.

Either that, or I end up rambling on like Jeff from Coupling - www.youtube.com/watch?v=hstPHM3R1dY
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 21:52, Reply)
2 complete fails of mine
in my defence i was young, naive and a geek

1. chatting to a girl in the local park, maybe 12
she tells me her name is 'Abbey'
thinking to flatter and flirt with her, my best line is
"woah that's like the bank Abbey National'
sadly about a year later I heard my mate say the exact same line!

2. PGL holiday (adventure camp) in final year of primary school (so maybe 11) we go canoeing, instructors are women and they hold a competition whilst we are floating around in the canoes
"who can tell us the best chat upline?"

Around me some guys are dropping things like
"i might not be fred flintstone, but i can make the bedrock" blah acceptable

me? turned into mr. tomatohead, never been so embarrassed, all i could say is
" Hello"
i dont know if her hand was on her face in mutual embarrassment or to shield her from the new energy source eminating from my beetroot face!

fail!
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 21:38, 3 replies)
Losing My Virginity
This is the story of how I lost my virginity.

I still find this incident quite embarrassing and uncomfortable to recall as I am not sure if what I did is actually morally allowed. Please remember that I was young, horny and desperate to get laid for the first ever time. Nowadays if I was faced with the same situation, I would probably run a mile in the opposite direction.

I was 17 and living in Orkney where I was in the middle of my final year at school. At the time most of my days mainly consisted of skipping as many classes as I could reasonably get away with and drinking beer in my house with a few mates since I only lived about two or three hundred yards away from the school.

One afternoon I had a free period and then PE so I decided I would nip home to watch TV first before heading back later on to kick footballs at the folk on the trampolines for an hour. I was walking along the path outside the school when I bumped into a woman that I knew. Her name was Jane.

Jane was a 22 year-old single mum who I had met a few months prior. She was quite short but very attractive with long bleach-blonde hair. It was a nice day out and evidently she was on her way over to my house as well. This was nothing unusual. Her and my step-mum had become quite friendly over the past couple of months so I would see them in the living room together playing games with her son. I would often help out where I could since I quite liked Jane and the kid was pretty entertaining. He had just learnt to walk, and as such, he would take any opportunity to sprint across the room as fast as his wobbly penguin-legs would take him, and would inadvertently crash into walls, chairs, the dog or any other inanimate object that stood in his way. He was comedy gold.

Since she had been coming over regularly Jane and I were getting quite close and she seemed very happy that I was taking an interest and spending time with her son.

When we got to the house she cornered me in the kitchen as I was making a sandwich for lunch.

“You should come over to mine later for tea if you want? I’m making lasagne” she said.

Being quite partial to homemade lasagne, I agreed, since the alternative that night was roast chicken. And I cannot fucking stand chicken.

Later on in the day after I had finished terrorizing everyone in PE, I made my way up to Jane’s house. Because she was a full-time mum the Council had provided her with a nice two-bedroom house that she lived in with her son. The kitchen was attached to the living room so while she prepared the lasagne, I lay on the couch and watched Ed, Edd and Eddy with the kid. I loved that show. I have a sister who is eleven years younger than me and I would sometimes sit and watch cartoons with her anytime I was bored after school. Those were good times.

Anyway, after we had finished eating and the kid had worn himself out, Jane put him to bed and then brought through a bottle of wine. I was still lying down on the opposite couch so I took this as a sneaky opportunity to sit next to her. Over the course of the evening we shared a couple of bottles of wine and watched The Evil Dead trilogy. Romantic I know.

I was pretty inexperienced in relationships and, well, women in general, and I wasn’t accustomed to the basic signs of flirting. At this point I still considered this evening as simply ‘hanging out’. The fact that she invited me over for a cooked dinner should have been a clue. The Von Dutch t-shirt that she was wearing that was so tight I could see her pierced nipples poking through it should have been another. It finally hit home though when she sidled up to me, took my hand and placed it around her shoulder and gazed directly into my eyes with a fuck-me look that could have stopped a ravaging lion in its tracks, with her breasts beckoning me through her tight white shirt.

As inexperienced and naïve as I was, there was no way I could not pick up on that sign. I leaned in, placed my other hand tenderly around the back of her neck and kissed her. And I kissed her some more. Kissing then moved onto touching, touching moved onto rubbing, and before I knew it, she had a hold of my hand and was pulling me towards her bedroom. This was finally it. The day I had dreamed about was finally here.

I followed her into her bedroom, taking note of the vast amount of toys on the floor that I could potentially trip over later, and then proceeded to have the most eagerly anticipated sex I have ever had. It was awesome. There aren’t many things in life that you look forward to as much as having sex for the first time, and it certainly didn’t disappoint.

Now you may have noticed a couple of things from earlier on in the story that I haven’t clarified yet. Like when I mentioned that this was embarrassing? And why Jane was appearing at my house regularly even though we weren’t going out?

Well, the reason for both is that the father of her child is actually my step-brother. So the reason she was over at mine all the time was because she was taking her son to see his grandmother. And the reason why I felt, and still feel, awkward was because even although the sex was great, the woman I had just stuck my penis inside was technically the mother of my nephew. Or step-nephew. Can you even have a step-nephew? Either way, I realize that it was totally fucked up.

And so began my official journey into the depraved world of flirting.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 19:48, 22 replies)
I'm married...
... so I flirt with wild abandon - it's the only thrill I get these days. I do it everywhere and Mrs D just thinks I'm odd and that it's harmless fun. I'm not and it is.

I'm at my flirting best on the telephone. I have the perfect face... er, I mean voice for radio. You have to make best use of what you've got, so I take full advantage of my seductive tones and thoroughly enjoy chatting up the ladies.

Occasionally, I've taken it a little far and got myself into trouble with Mrs D.

Unfortunately, I've become addicted and often don't seem to know when I'm doing it. It has now reached the point where Mrs D's outrageously camp gay friend spends longer on the phone to me than he does to her and when he does get to speak to her he asks for rather intimate details about me.

On better days, female callers to my office phone have told me that they found my voice "incredibly sexy", which is always nice.

Of course, this isn't a patch on my pal Alan, whose favourite chat-up line with the ladies is: "Will you have sex with me", whilst simultaneously groping their breasts. Surprisingly, he takes them home more often than he gets slapped in the face. I like to think that maybe they slap him in the face when they get to his house. But I'm just bitter.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 18:16, 2 replies)
You know the psychological test about the girl at the funeral that sees a hot guy
and goes home and kills her father?

The amount of people I've told that to that have got the answer right disturbs me no end.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 16:42, 27 replies)
girls shouldnt do chat up lines..
The only chat up line ive used (and being a girl it isnt really the done thing)..

me to hot guy: ''so youre hot, huh?''

hot guy to me: ''yeah but youre not..''

me to hot guy ''OH BUT YOUR GAY, SHAME''

me: run away..

also another tactic i used to use when a guy would approach me was:

guy to me ''hey, can i get you a drink?''

me to guy: (long pause) scream at the top of my voice: NEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTTTTTTT.

garunteed to be left alone for the rest of the night.

job done.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:24, 6 replies)
White Russians
It was an average Saturday afternoon when my friend and I decided to go to a bar for some much-loved alcoholic beverages. Our excitement was short-lived, as they had no working beer taps. Cocktails and alcopops were to be our only source of liver-damaging goodness.

We have a quick flick through the drinks menu, and I quickly decide on a White Russian. Hey, it contains milk which strengthens bones and that has to be manly, right?

So I'm at the bar with my friend and I get the first round. I turn to him and ask him if he, too, would like what I'm having and before he answers, I order mine.

Me: "I'll have a White Russian, please!
Sam: "Oh, I'm not sure whether to have the White or the Black Russian."
Sam then turns to the barmaid and asks the following:
Sam: "What do you recommend? White or Black?"
Barmaid: (thick Russian accent) "I would go with the white because I am also a white Russian."
Sam: "Ok, can we get 2 White Russians then?"
Me: "...Make that 3."

I then proceed to give the worst wink in the history of my life, and this from someone who has to do an exaggerated face movement in even the best of them!

Barmaid: "You would only be able to afford 2."

Oh, the shame.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:09, 2 replies)
In which grandmasterfluffles flirts accidentally and actually manages to pull
So, last night I was at a gig. This is not unusual in itself. A few of us went for a drink or three afterwards - also not remotely unusual, as anyone who hangs out with classical musicians will tell you. I was sitting opposite a rather fit baritone I’d never met before, but we were getting on very well. At some point, the conversation turned to flirting and I said, very truthfully, “I’ve been told I’m the world’s biggest flirt, but I’ve never any idea I’m doing it. In fact, if I actually want to flirt with someone, I have absolutely no idea how to go about it.”

Civilised conversation continued until we all decided to part ways. By this time, Fit Baritone and I had discovered that we lived a mere five minutes walk from one another, and so we got the bus together to Kentish Town, by which time we’d decided to have another drink at one of the many watering holes round that way. Trouble was, by the time we got there it was very late and everything was shut. “Never mind,” said Fit Baritone, “Come back to mine for a quick nightcap.” This I did.

So we got to his place, had some port and listened to some records and had a nice chat - all very cultured and civilised. Then it was time for me to leave, and as I was getting my stuff together, I suddenly found myself locked in a rather intense embrace with him, complete with lots of heavy breathing (him) and utter bemusement (me).

It turns out that while we were having drinks, at the moment that I delivered the line, “I’m the world’s biggest flirt,” my leg just happened to brush against his. He actually thought I was playing footsie with him under the table, when in actual fact I was totally oblivious to the entirely accidental physical contact.

I’m going on a date with him on Friday. Score!
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:08, 7 replies)
Do you know how to spot when a woman is flirting with you?
Me neither.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:03, 1 reply)
How sodding obvious does a girl have to be?
Back in my younger days I lived on a remote island in the back of beyond. We rarely got any visitors and as I was a young single and highly sexed girl of reasonably attractiveness I would openly flirt with any newcomer to the island when I got a chance (Believe me only a handful of the locals were decent looking but I had a bit of a reputation thanks to the fact that I had slept with a few people already).

One day we were visited a pretty nice bloke called N a guy who was already in a relationship with his girl back home but I thought he might like a bit of a fling while he was away from home. After a few awkward chats I did the usual things to show that I was interested and I was sure he wanted me but he then said something about God and also let it slip that he was still a virgin too.

After hearing this I thought that N was saying, I’m a Christian and saving myself for the bog off wench so cut my losses and buggered off with one of the locals instead.

The morning after I realised that I may have read it wrong and N may have been saying that he was shy and was unsure that I really fancied him. I then decided to give it one more chance and that night I went into his bedroom naked. Turns out that I was right in the first instance and he wanted me to leave him alone.

I know that getting knocked back by a bloke when you are stood there naked would be a bit embarrassing to some people but I left the room feeling pretty pleased with myself as I knew he would be burning in a wicker statue in a few days time.

Yes I know I’m a slut.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 15:03, 2 replies)
The Game
I must admit I am crap at flirting but some of the advice here isn't all that great. I know there is a difference between flirting and pulling but this book is awesome

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Game:_Penetrating_the_Secret_Society_of_Pickup_Artists

I thought it was a load of crap but I tried an excersise game called the cube on two women I didn't know very well, you ask them to put certain things in around this imaginary cube and based on the information they give you, you tell them about their personality. They were both amazed and were all over me like a cheap suit (the only time ever) and ended up with both of them in the bedroom, unfortunately we got in about 4am and they fell asleep...but still

The only thing I found with this approach is it tells you how to pull/flirt with girls so they are attracted to you but as well as you all know you can only maintain a relationship by being yourself. This book is my mates pulling bible and it works but can't remember him being in a relationship for more than a few weeks at a time.

I dare anyone to use the cube trick on a night out and see the results. invaraiably the responses are "wow you know me so well" etc etc
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 13:16, 17 replies)
Checkout
Walking into my local minimarket I was metaphorically knocked sideways. No, not by the sort of prices that only a big league Columbian drugs baron could afford, but by the bored looking teenage girl working behind the counter. I had a hankering for a garlic sausage sandwich and sex. Realizing prostitutes were out of my price range I settled on the sandwich instead.

Bread – check. Butter – check. Garlic sausage – check. (I was single at the time and my fridge was just a place to cool my beer down in. I think I had some Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, and half a box of cornflakes in my kitchen at the time).

I go over to the till. The bored looking girl rings the items through and I stood there looking like a sad lonely bachelor about to spend the evening eating garlic sausage sandwiches while wanking over internet porn. The girl gets to the garlic sausage. A long phallic chunk of garlicy goodness. She tries to ring it through. It doesn’t work. She examines the barcode, realizes its scrunched up and proceeds to flatten it out with her hands.

I stood and watched, gulping down air as this bored teenager proceeded to wank off my sausage with dexterity and expertise. It was like watching a sex ninja perform the perfect handjob. I just couldn’t let it pass.

“Now that’s a lucky sausage,” I remarked.

She gazed up at me, realizing what it looked like she was doing. And – thankfully – she smiled and let out a little laugh. “All part of the service,” she said in the most smutty way imaginable.

And then I was hooked. For the next week I made a point of visiting my local minimarket every night on my way home from work. By the end of the week my fridge was stocked with a veritable smorgasbord of phallic shaped food items. She was only a kid, it was only a bit of harmless flirting, but it sort of passed the time.

Then the next time I went in there I was greeted by Mr Shah’s familiar screwed up old face. Feeling a little disappointed as his crabby old hands rang through my wares, I said: “That girl you had in here last week. Between you and me, she was a bit of a goer. The things she said she’d do with a Pepperami. Pwhhoooo!”

Mr Shah finished packing my gear.

“And that would be my daughter,” said Mr Shah.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 13:08, 3 replies)
mate of mine
(drunk)goes up to random girl
drunk mate- "Hey, have you ever had your tits weighed?"
confused girl- "Ermm, no, why?"

drunk mate - *grabs girl's tits* "WHHAAAYYYYYYY!!!
*SLAP*
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 12:32, 10 replies)
Refused red knickers
It was mid-December, just before Christmas, and I was out with a friend. We'd just been to see Bad Manners, and had a brilliant time. Buster was as ever a fantastic entertainer, and as always good for a chat and a drink afterwards. Given that it was late, my friend and I were on our way home. Only to bump into a couple of female friends of ours. One of whom wanted me to stay out for more drinks. Badly. However, I was tired, out of cash and didn't want to ruin a good night. Verbal persuasion wasn't working on my, offers of drinks were politely refused, and pleading was being ignored. I really didn't want to go to any clubs, as in Wakefield that usually means shitty dance clubs and expensive drinks. All I wanted was to get home, have a couple of cans and maybe a smoke, and then to bed.

But this wouldn't wash with my friend, oh no. So she tried to flirt with me instead. Now, I'm not the best at flirting as I've already admitted several times. I am in fact something of a spastic flidmong when it comes to flirting. Really, really bad. She, however, was worse. Now the girl in question wasn't too bad looking, but she was starting to piss me off. And then she tried her final gambit. "Please stay out Jim, look I've got red knickers on!". I suppose they had the added bonus of matching her slutty Mrs Claus outfit, I guess. But, whatever. I'm guessing she thought it would work on me, or something. What she didn't bank on was me saying "Congratulations, but it's not like I'll be seeing them crumpled on my bedroom floor now, is it?", and turning off into the night, leaving my friend to explain the situation.

She still hasn't lived it down.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 12:26, 9 replies)
Flirting fail
So I do stand up comedy at my uni, which works surprisingly well at getting people interested in talking to you, unfortunately I can't talk back. After one show two girls walked up to me in the bar after and said "hey, we just wanted to tell you that we thought you were really funny" to which I replied "err, thanks, do I know you?"

On a different note I once tried to chat someone up but came out with "Hey, you're really pretty...you look just like my sister". In my defense I'm from Norfolk where this chat up line usually works.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 11:59, 2 replies)
Do you like chicken?
Well then suck my cock, it's foul.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 11:38, 9 replies)
Coupling
My flirting would be something akin to this:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZJzf0NOM8M

I never know what to say so end up rambling and, unlike in the video, get nowhere.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 11:24, 3 replies)
Mmmmm Irresistible
I work in an FE College. One day my colleague came into the office fairly salivating over a gorgeous student she had seen. That afternoon said stud wandered into our office, as fate would have it he was a student belonging to my department and had to come over to my desk and ask me lots of questions. Seeing the opportunity to wind my mate up I went into full charm mode. I had him chuckling and smiling in no time oh and leaning over to look at my computer screen as I explained things to him.

Then I saw it!

Right there propped up against the PC where he cannot have failed to see it ........ the box of Immodium! Yes right there proclaiming "THIS WOMAN HAS THE SHITS"

Three years later and my workmate is still pissing herself laughing.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 11:22, 6 replies)
Pft - will I never learn
So I'm not the kind of chap who women routinely proposition. You know the type. Bad hair, wonky glasses, habit of making pretentious jokes and then laughing at them.

There is, however, one exception, and that's when I've just sung kareoke. I think to an extent it's the Susan Boyle syndrome of "bloody hell, you wouldn't expect someone who looks like that can actually really sing. Not just hold a tune". And I can.

So anyway, boozer round from my workplace, I'd just finished a frankly spot-on rendition of "New York, New York" to a packed pub, even milking it so far as to amble slightly up the staircase to make an impromptu stage. The rather attractive and sufficiently-younger-and nubiler(word?)-than-me barmaid says "you know, you could have any woman in this bar right now."

My response?

"Thanks, 2 pints of Spitfire and a gin & tonic please".

Much mockery from workmates. Including the one who subsequently took her home. Ah well.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 11:16, 2 replies)
I've never been one for flirting (successfully)...
...but nowadays I'm just da man! These girls are 17, 18, sometimes even as young as 12, and I'm just repeatedly telling them they're beautiful, I love how their hair catches the sunlight, and I ask them to pout for me or flash me a nice smile or bend over just a little bit...

My wife normally stand right next to me when I do this, but she doesn't mind, she sometimes also gets into the spirit of things. When you are a professional model photographer, you can't help but love your job!

Length: 18-70mm, sometimes up to 200mm!
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 10:55, 5 replies)
Never forget, ladies:
A hint of a possible bit of boob or vag action will have most men in an easily manipulative state in no time.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 10:38, Reply)
Guys, just remember:
Women are objects, there to be used til you grow bored and want something new.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 10:36, 1 reply)
Fuxtix just reminded me about Hilary.
When I was about a similar age as him (11), my sister and I used to be sent off to stay with my father's friends the odd weekend each summer to play with their kids James and Hilary.

One day when Hilary and I were alone - she asked if I wanted to play with her in her room. I noticed that she was very keen for me to sit next to her and play with her collection of plastic ponies (hmmm..) and whatnot. When I kept refusing, and instead Transforming my robots some more she eventually stood up, stripped off naked, and decided to perform a 'crab' in front of me.

Best biology lesson I ever had and my transformers were never as much fun ever again....

I guess that was her flirting and I only wish women would flirt the same with me now.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 10:28, Reply)
Musta been about 1984...
...when I was just a little wanktwig of 11 years old I would go round my mate's house to play.

In the holidays his female cousin of the same age would come to stay and she was pretty. I fancied her. A lot.

I had no idea how to tell her this. I was fairly sure she fancied me but I still didnt have the balls to tell her.

In the end, I did the most natural thing that occured to a weird little 11 year old; I wrote "I love you" on a £1 note and slipped it into her bag when she wasn't looking. There, job done. She will be mine now!

Looking back, this does look like some kind of strip-joint "tip", but it was meant most sincerely and was my odd little way of flirting without being face to face.

I often wonder a) if she found the £1 note, b) if she noticed my writing and c)if she ever kept it.

I suppose I could ask her as I am still in contact with my mate, but I guess I am just as embarrassed now as I was then.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 10:17, Reply)
A shy guy goes into a pub and sees a beautiful woman sitting at the bar.
After an hour of gathering up his courage he finally goes over to her.
"Erm", he said, "would you mind if I chatted with you for a while?"
She responds by yelling, at the top of her lungs, "No, I won't sleep with you tonight!"
Everyone in the bar is now staring at them.
Naturally, the guy is hopelessly and completely embarrassed and he slinks back to his table.
After a few minutes, the woman walks over to him and apologizes.
She smiles at him and says, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. You see, I'm a university student in psychology and I'm studying how people respond to embarrassing situations."
To which he responds yelling at the top of his voice "What do you mean, 200 Quid!?"

*Sorry* Would be great to get some revenge like this though for all the times my flirting has been met with rejection.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 9:57, 2 replies)
I got a 3 month old kitten
When it's rarely quiet in the house and I'm sitting there by myself watching some telly or playing the Xbox, the kitten (Pepper) climbs up onto the sofa and tries to get comfy near me.

Not a problem thinks I, he's a kitten and he's not currently trying to eat my feet (he randomly attacks my feet if I happen to be anywhere near him; he's like a cute furry minature sumo wrestler). The problems start when he suddenly gets over-comfy.

He starts purring like an old diesel engine and attempts to climb up me to me neck and face. There he'll do a number of things; try to climb under me neck , randomly lick my face or rather worse, pin me face in one direction while he attempts to clean my fucking ear out. Talk about freaking me out, it's only a matter of time before the litte furball tries to skullfuck me.

I'm living in fear.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 9:20, 8 replies)
oh yeah. You like that baby?
I got it out for you.



PS Thanks to hedge_diver's post below for the idea.
(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 9:10, 3 replies)
So there I was this morning,
sat at the horrendous traffic lights in Preston that stay on red for a good 4/5 minutes so the walkers have time to cross over the road. Well I was tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to a bit of Faith No More and I noticed that the 'Stop n Grow' was wearing a bit thin on my nails, might as well re-apply a bit more I thought while I'm waiting.

So there I am putting this what is effectively very bitter tasting clear nail varnish on my nails (and fingers!) when I heard a horn honk, I looked up and the lights were still red, another honk, I look to my right and there's a builders mate in a transit van with his window down giving me obscene gestures with his hands and blowing me kisses!!

So I did what anyone who's had that type of flirting directed at them, waited for the lights to go amber... And turned sharp left!



(, Tue 23 Feb 2010, 9:00, 2 replies)
the interwebs
sending pictures of your cockerel to your friend does not constitute flirting, especially when your fiance finds out.... Silly men, when will you ever learn.
(, Mon 22 Feb 2010, 23:55, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1