And he was so tall and so sexy and it was completely the one thing in teh world she wanted. So she went for it, her voice ringing with laughter and desire. She touched his arm, giggled at his inaity and at the end of their time, she decided he wasn’t her type at all. That was the end. And she left him, sitting at the bar, staring at where she’d been, wanting and thinking about her.
From where you sit perched precariously on the edge of your seat, you have an unobstructed (albeit completely unwanted) view of their first flirtation. Something he says make her toss her pretty head back in laughter, although you’re positive it was far from clever or charming. Your eyes are almost magnetically drawn to the pair again when she clutches at his arm in a transparent grab for his redirected attention. A full infernal fourty minutes more of assorted whispers and giggles unfolds before your eyes as the period stretches on. You start to wonder if the clocks in this god-forsaken cesspool of hormones have been wound back or are just running particularly slow today.
Your stomach feels like a clenched fist; the strange display is starting to make you uncomfortable. How long ago was it when that very same boy used that very same tone of voice when he talked to you? Told the very same bizarre jokes to you? Smiled that same strange, hopeful smile that you now are just beginning to recognize? And did you honestly miss it all, only to realize it now while seeing him use it on another person? And on her, of all people.
It is only now that you have an epiphany, of sorts. You don’t want to see the end result of this strange courtship. You actually mind.
Of course it doesn’t matter at this point. You have obviously lost what little chance you ever had.
He flirted with destiny. The prospects were many, and varied. Only observing could force one upon him. For the instant, they all stretched out before him, taunting him. Coy possibilities.
She was a flirt. Long skirt, sandals, brown hair bobbing in a high bun, one lock pressed behind her ear. She moved through the crowd like a vapor. I watched her from the darkness, hiding, but I felt exposed. She penetrated me with something, I breathed her in, and it was as if she was poisoning me.
she was the biggest flirt around, inconspicuously though. who she was on the inside was completely different from the outside. amazingly though, she had the ability to constantly feel alone, regardless of how many boys begged and pleaded for her attention, or even a second of her time. she rarely cared. she never took the time to notice, she was wrapped up in feeling alone. this was a feeling she grew accustomed to! if she didn’t feel alone, she felt nothing. she was the most emotionless person in the world, except when it came to feeling alone.
“What a flirt!” Susan tossed her head. She pursed cherry-pinked lips into something vaguely resembling a sneer. “Honestly, I can’t even go anywhere these days without boys practically flinging themselves into my-”
“Would you just shut up, Stevenson?” The drawling command came from Kelsey Martin, a dishwater blonde with a scar stretching from one eyebrow to her jawline. “No one really cares what you think of Gerald Kymer.”
The redhead huffed and puffed for a moment, before the cherry lips curved into a pout. “You’re just jealous because none of them asked you dance. Guess they can tell your dance skills by looking at your face.”
“Jealousy looks good on you.” The blonde retorted. “Don’t bother to take it off.”
He forgot to get her flowers. He forgot to get her chocolate. He forgot it was Valentine’s Day. But he will never forget the blonde that shared a momentary flirtatious glance. And he went home remembering love occurs in moments–not prescribed holidays.
Flirt is a word that is hard to define. I mean it’s so hard these days to know someone is actually flirting with you. It does make me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.
I like to do several different things to people, all of which are done through various steps until a certain goal is reached. First I show affection and flirt, and then I display hatred and malice.
Little flips and slips of the skirt on the dance floor, and hands poised so as to show off the manicure. And dancing, dancing like your life is an act.
Something I do that makes me feel alive. I also feel guilty because now that I’m married I wonder if it is wrong. Also, is it really flirting when you are just being kind, but doing so when you know you have something to gain.
i love to flirt. Flirting makes me feel alive. It’s fun to smile and feel that energy and notice the men around me. I am jazzed when they notice me too. I like to be seen. That’s all. I like to be noticed and heard and all that stuff.
Sometimes I hate it when guys flirt with you. For me, I can never tell if they’re joking and having a laugh, not actually flirting and it’s just my over active imagination, or it they really are.
She watched him surreptitiously in math class, measuring the seconds of his glances against the minutes of the clock. The math teacher was talking about straight lines and segments and how rays started at one end and continued forever on the other, and she just could not stop thinking about him. How the little breaths he took were like sighs against the open pages of the textbook; how his eyes flickered from problem to problem, scanning the page with such heated intensity that she wondered for a moment if he was thinking about her– and then, no!, she thought with such sadness, as the bell rang and his chair tipped back; he was suddenly standing and gathering his binders and putting his backpack on like everyone else, and he was the first to get to the door–
His girlfriend greeted him with a light kiss and a cheery smile and they strolled away, leaving her staring after them, for a glimpse of something that she could never have.
We flirt with disaster. We flirt with overspending. We flirt with food. Oh…who am I kidding? I flirt with all these things. And I want their attention, right? Their “seeing” of me in a way that gets me what I want. But they don’t. Genuineness and real-ness are always better approaches – to risk, to money, to food…and to love. But it’s so fun!!!
i think flirting is social currency it makes inter reaction easier between people even between people who are not sexually attracted it can be harmless and everyone does it all the time how ever it can be used as a pejorative term, that someone is a flirt and really this just means that a person does not know how to flirt
flirting;
I see it and hear it all around me
I forget what it’s like sometimes
just to have fun, with something as harmless as flirting
no thinking, no caring, just doing.
I’d flirt with you helplessly, if I had courage. I’d look into your eyes and smile. I’d give you a playful slap on the arm. If I had any idea how to get there. At this moment, that seems like miles away. I can’t even talk to you let alone flirt. And when I flirt, I make it worth it. There’s not worth in flirting when it won’t get me anywhere.
He had a flute and fluttered and flitted about like gnat.
Her skirt was buoyed up by a flume.
When everything settled down, perhaps they’d go out for flan.
I am so tired. Every bone aches like I’ve gone 14 rounds with a demented tumble drier. My mouth feels drier than a lizard’s chuff and my eyes burn in sympathy with the pain in my gut.
I’d still flirt with that giggling, blond apparition over there though. Why? Because I’m a real man and real men have absolutely no sense whatsoever in the wide world. Evolution? It just passed us by.
I flirt with intelligence each day. I am unsure what will come of it as I flirt with other’s intelligence. Will they answer with sarcasm or with witticism. I am never sure…but that is part of the fun of flirting with intelligence.
Oh so teasing,
That bright smile in her eyes;
I’m her lover, she’s my wonder
She can’t see me the same way.
I miss her, I adore her, I need her with me,
But she lives on. She writes me off.
But I am nothing without
Her.
That coy smile I used to give you, do you remember? The one that said, “Take me into the pantry, take off my pants, feel up my shirt, and have your way with me?” Well I can’t give it now. You won’t let me. We are now two people who think in past tense.
he looked at her. she looked at him. they smiled at each other.
the grocery store was always the best place to meet people. they revealed themselves to you in the aisles when they picked up canned soup or pre-made dinners or assembled ingredients. they showed you who they were in the shopping carts.
low-cut shirt and a loose variety of some other sins in your closet, but none that can match what is wrong with your sway:
(the way your hips move,
so vulgar, up the stairs)
sleeping pills and bud-light on your nightstand, coffee on your bills, this the first time that you’ve left your flat in a week, and look, you’ve quite forgotten how to wear clothes properly;
don’t notice the second-glances of men.
Flirt… Verb or noun? This is exactly the type of girl I would not like to be. But it also happens to be the type that I am. How do we despise something even though we are in such denial about it?
There are certain things in my nature that have always astounded me. I spat out my guts to you in my weakest moments. I wasn’t a flirt; a was a boy, broken and tattered and torn, looking for one last glimpse of home, of humanity. And you spat me back out.
Every steamy sway beckoned; the aroma thickly sinful and primal, clawing at the senses. How could one ever resist? He melted at the mere thought of such indulgence, and thus, had no choice but to give in to the flirtations. Coffee was his favorite 5am seductress.
Me and my friends love to flirt and chat about the hottest new things in our petite little town. My cousins and I love to chat about the hottest new things around the world.
i want to flirt with you more than you know. i want to stand really close to you, twirl my hair through my fingertips, tell you i like your shoes and glasses, ask you about how hot you are, tell you cheesy pick up lines, and kiss you all over your neck till you can’t stand it.
Flirting is the evil cousin to cheating, or so I’ve heard.
I wish that guys didn’t do it so often. Yeah, it confuses the hell out of girls. But I guess we do it to you too, huh. Hugging and kissing and texting and blah blah blah blah blah…..it kind of skews reality a little bit, hides how you really feel about someone.
And he was so tall and so sexy and it was completely the one thing in teh world she wanted. So she went for it, her voice ringing with laughter and desire. She touched his arm, giggled at his inaity and at the end of their time, she decided he wasn’t her type at all. That was the end. And she left him, sitting at the bar, staring at where she’d been, wanting and thinking about her.
From where you sit perched precariously on the edge of your seat, you have an unobstructed (albeit completely unwanted) view of their first flirtation. Something he says make her toss her pretty head back in laughter, although you’re positive it was far from clever or charming. Your eyes are almost magnetically drawn to the pair again when she clutches at his arm in a transparent grab for his redirected attention. A full infernal fourty minutes more of assorted whispers and giggles unfolds before your eyes as the period stretches on. You start to wonder if the clocks in this god-forsaken cesspool of hormones have been wound back or are just running particularly slow today.
Your stomach feels like a clenched fist; the strange display is starting to make you uncomfortable. How long ago was it when that very same boy used that very same tone of voice when he talked to you? Told the very same bizarre jokes to you? Smiled that same strange, hopeful smile that you now are just beginning to recognize? And did you honestly miss it all, only to realize it now while seeing him use it on another person? And on her, of all people.
It is only now that you have an epiphany, of sorts. You don’t want to see the end result of this strange courtship. You actually mind.
Of course it doesn’t matter at this point. You have obviously lost what little chance you ever had.
He flirted with destiny. The prospects were many, and varied. Only observing could force one upon him. For the instant, they all stretched out before him, taunting him. Coy possibilities.
She was a flirt. Long skirt, sandals, brown hair bobbing in a high bun, one lock pressed behind her ear. She moved through the crowd like a vapor. I watched her from the darkness, hiding, but I felt exposed. She penetrated me with something, I breathed her in, and it was as if she was poisoning me.
she was the biggest flirt around, inconspicuously though. who she was on the inside was completely different from the outside. amazingly though, she had the ability to constantly feel alone, regardless of how many boys begged and pleaded for her attention, or even a second of her time. she rarely cared. she never took the time to notice, she was wrapped up in feeling alone. this was a feeling she grew accustomed to! if she didn’t feel alone, she felt nothing. she was the most emotionless person in the world, except when it came to feeling alone.
“What a flirt!” Susan tossed her head. She pursed cherry-pinked lips into something vaguely resembling a sneer. “Honestly, I can’t even go anywhere these days without boys practically flinging themselves into my-”
“Would you just shut up, Stevenson?” The drawling command came from Kelsey Martin, a dishwater blonde with a scar stretching from one eyebrow to her jawline. “No one really cares what you think of Gerald Kymer.”
The redhead huffed and puffed for a moment, before the cherry lips curved into a pout. “You’re just jealous because none of them asked you dance. Guess they can tell your dance skills by looking at your face.”
“Jealousy looks good on you.” The blonde retorted. “Don’t bother to take it off.”
He forgot to get her flowers. He forgot to get her chocolate. He forgot it was Valentine’s Day. But he will never forget the blonde that shared a momentary flirtatious glance. And he went home remembering love occurs in moments–not prescribed holidays.
Flirt is a word that is hard to define. I mean it’s so hard these days to know someone is actually flirting with you. It does make me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.
I like to do several different things to people, all of which are done through various steps until a certain goal is reached. First I show affection and flirt, and then I display hatred and malice.
Little flips and slips of the skirt on the dance floor, and hands poised so as to show off the manicure. And dancing, dancing like your life is an act.
Something I do that makes me feel alive. I also feel guilty because now that I’m married I wonder if it is wrong. Also, is it really flirting when you are just being kind, but doing so when you know you have something to gain.
i love to flirt. Flirting makes me feel alive. It’s fun to smile and feel that energy and notice the men around me. I am jazzed when they notice me too. I like to be seen. That’s all. I like to be noticed and heard and all that stuff.
Amazing
Wonderful feelings to flirt with a stranger
It will make their day. It will make yours.
Makes you feel loved and beautiful. Even in your vey. Ad days
Love it
Love doing it
although we smile and laugh as you do,
us girls are not all that interested in the flirty few,
it’s not that we dont want a compliment,
its not that we dont like smiles, we do,
its just that flirting is cute,
but wed rather be loved by you
Sometimes I hate it when guys flirt with you. For me, I can never tell if they’re joking and having a laugh, not actually flirting and it’s just my over active imagination, or it they really are.
Flirting is something I do not do.
Maybe you do
and maybe you don’t
But I definitely won’t.
She watched him surreptitiously in math class, measuring the seconds of his glances against the minutes of the clock. The math teacher was talking about straight lines and segments and how rays started at one end and continued forever on the other, and she just could not stop thinking about him. How the little breaths he took were like sighs against the open pages of the textbook; how his eyes flickered from problem to problem, scanning the page with such heated intensity that she wondered for a moment if he was thinking about her– and then, no!, she thought with such sadness, as the bell rang and his chair tipped back; he was suddenly standing and gathering his binders and putting his backpack on like everyone else, and he was the first to get to the door–
His girlfriend greeted him with a light kiss and a cheery smile and they strolled away, leaving her staring after them, for a glimpse of something that she could never have.
Flirting with disaster.
Romance.
Friendship.
Flirt with the truth.
We flirt with disaster. We flirt with overspending. We flirt with food. Oh…who am I kidding? I flirt with all these things. And I want their attention, right? Their “seeing” of me in a way that gets me what I want. But they don’t. Genuineness and real-ness are always better approaches – to risk, to money, to food…and to love. But it’s so fun!!!
Silly girls. Maneuvering their bag of tricks and becoming every kind of alluring for a smile, for a wink, for a kiss.
i think flirting is social currency it makes inter reaction easier between people even between people who are not sexually attracted it can be harmless and everyone does it all the time how ever it can be used as a pejorative term, that someone is a flirt and really this just means that a person does not know how to flirt
flirting;
I see it and hear it all around me
I forget what it’s like sometimes
just to have fun, with something as harmless as flirting
no thinking, no caring, just doing.
I’d flirt with you helplessly, if I had courage. I’d look into your eyes and smile. I’d give you a playful slap on the arm. If I had any idea how to get there. At this moment, that seems like miles away. I can’t even talk to you let alone flirt. And when I flirt, I make it worth it. There’s not worth in flirting when it won’t get me anywhere.
He had a flute and fluttered and flitted about like gnat.
Her skirt was buoyed up by a flume.
When everything settled down, perhaps they’d go out for flan.
I am so tired. Every bone aches like I’ve gone 14 rounds with a demented tumble drier. My mouth feels drier than a lizard’s chuff and my eyes burn in sympathy with the pain in my gut.
I’d still flirt with that giggling, blond apparition over there though. Why? Because I’m a real man and real men have absolutely no sense whatsoever in the wide world. Evolution? It just passed us by.
I flirt with intelligence each day. I am unsure what will come of it as I flirt with other’s intelligence. Will they answer with sarcasm or with witticism. I am never sure…but that is part of the fun of flirting with intelligence.
Oh so teasing,
That bright smile in her eyes;
I’m her lover, she’s my wonder
She can’t see me the same way.
I miss her, I adore her, I need her with me,
But she lives on. She writes me off.
But I am nothing without
Her.
That coy smile I used to give you, do you remember? The one that said, “Take me into the pantry, take off my pants, feel up my shirt, and have your way with me?” Well I can’t give it now. You won’t let me. We are now two people who think in past tense.
“I flirt like a pro.”
Bitch.
he looked at her. she looked at him. they smiled at each other.
the grocery store was always the best place to meet people. they revealed themselves to you in the aisles when they picked up canned soup or pre-made dinners or assembled ingredients. they showed you who they were in the shopping carts.
why flit your eyes
at idealistic unrealities
why flirt with impossible,
improbable, visions
they’re not wonderful.
they’re lies.
low-cut shirt and a loose variety of some other sins in your closet, but none that can match what is wrong with your sway:
(the way your hips move,
so vulgar, up the stairs)
sleeping pills and bud-light on your nightstand, coffee on your bills, this the first time that you’ve left your flat in a week, and look, you’ve quite forgotten how to wear clothes properly;
don’t notice the second-glances of men.
Flirt with disaster
Flirty Skirt
Flirty Dessert
Flirt til it hurts
Don’t flirt with the darkness
Flirty shirt
I want to have one .
Has past to much since the last time
Flirt… Verb or noun? This is exactly the type of girl I would not like to be. But it also happens to be the type that I am. How do we despise something even though we are in such denial about it?
There are certain things in my nature that have always astounded me. I spat out my guts to you in my weakest moments. I wasn’t a flirt; a was a boy, broken and tattered and torn, looking for one last glimpse of home, of humanity. And you spat me back out.
Every steamy sway beckoned; the aroma thickly sinful and primal, clawing at the senses. How could one ever resist? He melted at the mere thought of such indulgence, and thus, had no choice but to give in to the flirtations. Coffee was his favorite 5am seductress.
Me and my friends love to flirt and chat about the hottest new things in our petite little town. My cousins and I love to chat about the hottest new things around the world.
i want to flirt with you more than you know. i want to stand really close to you, twirl my hair through my fingertips, tell you i like your shoes and glasses, ask you about how hot you are, tell you cheesy pick up lines, and kiss you all over your neck till you can’t stand it.
Flirting is the evil cousin to cheating, or so I’ve heard.
I wish that guys didn’t do it so often. Yeah, it confuses the hell out of girls. But I guess we do it to you too, huh. Hugging and kissing and texting and blah blah blah blah blah…..it kind of skews reality a little bit, hides how you really feel about someone.