It Beats Twittering Any Day!
Flirting, that is. But only if you’re good at it. So what is it that makes a great flirt? Our self-confessed expert finds out, with bit of little help from Sex Guru, Tracey Cox.
Anne Sexton, 07 Aug 2009
“You’re an excellent flirt,” he said. I already knew that, but it was nice to have it confirmed by a bon fide flirting expert, a man who runs workshops on body language, dating techniques and the mating game. We’d done some work together in the past, and he’s known me for over a year, but this was the first time he’d seen me in a social situation, and I, as is my habit, had been flirting up a storm.
“Of course, you’ve read all the books,” he added. “So it’s not surprising.”
It’s true, I have, but only since I’ve been writing for Hot Press and I’ve been flirting for a lot longer than that. My bookshelves have a number of tomes on body language, because I find it a fascinating subject, but I’ve never once tried to put any of this information to practical use – I’ve never felt the need to.
The entire Sexton clan are flirts. My parents flirted outrageously with one another through thirty-nine years of marriage – airing their clean laundry in public as Oscar Wilde put it. My brother started trying to chat up teenage girls from about the age of ten; my younger sister obtained a PhD in the Dynamics of Advanced Flirting by sixteen; while my older sister makes up for lack of subtlety by being a force of nature – rather like a hurricane.
Given all of this, it’s no surprise that I am a flirt. It’s hardwired into me, both by nature and by nurture. Human beings learn through imitation. As children we watch our parents and siblings and – to an extent at least – we mirror their behaviour. Having seen my parents wriggle out of traffic fines or be offered upgrades using nothing more than charm and a well-timed smile, I learnt early on that flirting is a useful tool. But as a teenager I had no idea how to put this into practise with the opposite sex.
My friends were full of advice on how to behave around boys, but mostly this seemed to involve hair-twirling and acting stupid – neither of which I was prepared to do. I may have been desperate, but I was a still a feminist. Besides which, my mother didn’t act like a fluffy-headed moron and my father seemed to adore her, so I decided to ask her opinion instead. She let me into a little secret – and I’ve been using it to great effect ever since.
Page 1/4 <Previous 1 2 3 4 Next>
©Hot Press 2011. Why be a member? | Terms of Service | Privacy Policy