Sunday, January 30, 2005

My flirtation manifesto.

In honor of my last day of Eharmony, I am including an excerpt from an e-mail I wrote to a potential suitor who said he "didn't like women who constantly flirt with men." This is probably a sign that this relationship will never work, but before he dismisses me out of hand, I wanted to defend the ancient, and beautiful art of flirting.

My must haves/can't stands will be up on Eharmony til Monday. I read yours, BTW. A couple of yours stood out. You said you didn't like women who flirt constantly with other men. I am not sure how you define flirting, but I certainly enjoy the underlying tension that is always present between the sexes. It transcends generations, class and culture. For me, it isn't necessarily about sex. It can be acknowledged in a chaste manner. In fact, its one of the great mysteries mentioned in Ecclesiastes. Clearly, one has to use one's best judgement, but to ban it out of hand is to deny one of the coolest things about being human. You said something else about traditional sex, but I am just going to let that one go.

Case in point. Phil at Philz Coffee, in the Mission. Wobbly bought me tea there the other morning. I don't remember the entire exchange, but it included pure pragmatic elements (the exchange of money and tea) but embedded within that, there was an amazing humour and energy. Was it a look? a smile? Shaking hands? A well placed rhetorical question? A wry responce? The thought of having sex with Phil did not cross my mind. That was not what it was about. Its a game.

When I was a toddler, I used to flirt with the truckers on the freeway. I didn't know what I was doing. It was natural. And I truly doubt most of the truckers were thinking, hey, that drooling baby has nice diaper. My dad teased me about it (another sort of non-sexual flirting) and that was fun, as well.

Now I am paranoid that you are thinking that its all sexualized, but my superego has come up with this elaborate justifification. I have one thing to say, Freud sucks dick! He was wrong wrong wrong! So there.

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I blog about life and soup, but mostly soup.