A frat guy, football player, and future Bill Gates walk into a bar. They all lay eyes on a brunette chick by herself busting dance moves from the ’80s. What happens next? They approach her, one by one, and she interacts with each of them. Sure, there’s some chemistry between her and each of the guys. But guess what? Not once does she envision going home with any of them that night.
Urban Dictionary defines a flirt as: “A person who is innocently overly friendly, especially the type of friendliness that is interpreted as seduction. Actions may include: giving away their number, blowing kisses, caressing, and free lapdances.”
A slut is defined as: “A woman who has many casual sex partners.”
I consider myself a very flirtatious lady that doesn’t sleep around. If a brawny sex God walks up and starts hitting on me, of course I’ll start batting my relatively short eyelashes as if I have mascara blocking my retinas. Why? I like the attention. I like eye-fucking men who are eager to try new sex positions. I like teasing them. I like the conversation. And I like the confidence boost I get when a gorgeous guy shows interest in me of all people.
I’m not saying I don’t love attempting to reenact less kinky scenes from Fifty Shades of Grey while a guy with a trophy-worthy dick thrusts inside of me. I just don’t care to play gynecologist with everyone who has a set of testicles. We live in an era where girls and boys assume that if you graze a man’s arm, or send a winky face emoji, there is a guaranteed free ticket to Poundtown. Our brains have been wired to believe that one-night stands happen more often than they actually do. We millennials are more open to the idea of letting strangers touch our genitals than in past generations. That isn’t to say that a simple one-on-one conversation will lead to instant one on top of one in bed. It might, however, lead to swapping phone numbers and possibly a kissing companion.
Imagine you’re at a party and see a chick with her head cocked to the side, eyes aglow with awe, and giggling like a little girl while talking to a very attractive boy who is way too far in her personal space. Five minutes later she’s doing the same thing, but with another gent. “Damn. That girl really wants to get laid,” you might say. Perhaps she does. Or perhaps she’s just like me. I’m a shameless smooth-talking flirt who enjoys the attention from boys, whether it’s physically speaking, snapchatting, or the inevitable makeout sessions. I’m single and hell yeah I’m going to mingle. There’s no way I’m going to be the girl in a skimpy outfit who sits on her phone with a sour look on my face and sports a big “FUCK OFF” stamp on my forehead while my friends have the balls to talk to dudes. I don’t want to awkwardly trail behind my friends and let them form new relationships with boys while I’m acting like I hate my life because people of the other gender are in the same vicinity as me. Going out to bars and parties doesn’t mean I have to flirt with guys every time I speak to them. But I do it anyways out of good fun. Flirting is totally innocent and harmless, and I’m not going to stop doing it just because people make assumptions about my sex life.
Forest Gump once said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” You might meet the boy of your dreams and not even know it if you blow him off because you don’t want him to think you’ll automatically spread your legs for him. I’m not saying I cross my fingers every time someone of the male species opens his mouth hoping that he will wife me up. But for the time being I can potentially have a good conversation with someone, play tonsil hockey, or if all else fails, I’ll at least get free drinks..