Sometimes there’s flirting in friendship.

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You guys, I met someone.

And sure, sure, I have a girlfriend.  I get it.

But this isn’t a romantic someone I met.  It may turn into a Friend.  That’s right – with a capital F.

WHAAA???

I’m twenty-eight years old.  I’m inching ever closer to that point where it’s hard to meet new people.

And sure, I work in the arts so I’m constantly meeting new people all the time.  But 99% of those people, although lovely, don’t ever transfer over into “Hey, let’s get together and hang out”-Land.

But there’s this boy.

I won’t go into where and how I know him lest I jinx it.  But things are clicking.  

Isn’t it funny how, most of the time, gaining a new friend is really like flirting?  You say things that may compliment the other person or speak to the other person’s strengths, gauging their reaction.  You laugh at things that might not be all that funny.  You go out of your way to speak to them.  You wonder what they think of you.  You’re flirting.

(Disclaimer – the image above is from the Wikipedia page on “flirting.”  I do not go out of my way to replace my gentleman’s shawl or to kiss his shoulder.  That would be another post altogether.)

Certainly, there are those times when things zap into existence and you find yourself in the middle of a friendship you never knew you were in.  This can happen with a relationship, too.  Oh, you say to yourself one day, I suppose we’re friends.  Or, I suppose we’re a couple now.  Other times, though, you need to break out that charm and flirt your butt off.

I don’t know if this will go anywhere.  Maybe I’ll get further into the trenches and discover and awful secret about him.  Maybe he’ll end up being abusive or doesn’t actually take showers.  Maybe he keeps lawn flamingos filled with urine scattered throughout his apartment.  Maybe he’s just a big jerk.

Who knows?  But who ever knows?  Isn’t that what flirting is all about?  What dating is all about?  Let’s figure this person out; let’s see if they’re a good fit for me.  And then, when they turn out to be a nutjob, dump ’em by the side of life’s road wrapped in a garbage bag and speed away down the highway.

Until I see those flamingos, though, I shall continue to flirt.  

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