To Stop Flirting, Is Friggin’ Tough

Up until I was 15 I was reserved, painfully shy, uncomfortable and insecure.

16 years of age popped more boobage onto me,a boyfriend into me, and this desire to actually make myself look good.
I stopped putting my school clothes on the night before and started straightening my hair and paid attention to what clothes made me look better.

It’s not all about physical attraction but sometimes, it is.
Looking good was really the only way I felt good. Feeling good brought my confidence meter up 6000 notches and in turn,
” Hello boys”.

For all of it’s existence, I didn’t call it flirting. ” It’s just the way I am!” ( Oh, please, I’d slash that idea down with an axe if it wasn’t already buried under a hill somewhere up north. )
Anyways, my behavior with males came naturally and it was perfected in a way I didn’t question or even really understand.

Basically what I’m trying to get at is that I flirted my way through life. It meant many overlapping relationships and a dependency that went beyond relying. It was a way of life.

Now I’m 28 and starting a brand new way. I’m attempting to drop a habit I didn’t realize I had.

Okay. So here’s the thing. When you go that long interacting in only one type of way towards males, it’s pretty friggin difficult to establish another way that doesn’t involve the combo of great social skills and the desire to be liked.

I mean, come ON.

I daily feel I’m being rude to men. It’s like knowing what to say to make them feel better or good about themselves, but trying not to want to anymore.
It’s like avoiding any eye contact, replying with bluntness wrapped in disinterest. It’s shutting down potential conversations before they begin.  It’s like learning how to communicate all over again when you know you know how to communicate just fine. It’s like the perfect opportunity to show off something you were proud of, but shutting that door over and over again.

And yeah, it does make me feel uncomfortable. I’m awkward at it. I’m nervous with it.
It’s fresh and tiring. I feel like a slightly empowered amature.  It brings me to a different level with myself and my world and my fancy smanzy heart tells me it’s the way to go, no matter how short worded I’m being with someone that is just begging for more interaction.

 
And I’ll take interaction with my heart over some freakishly good looking man asking for my phone number any day.

 

 

 

 

Why I wanted a boy

I was always able to have girlfriends if I wanted them.
I just remember them being meaner. Pickier. Gossiped a lot.
I was shy and didn’t care for that.
I kind of was a tom boy. Up until 8 years ago.
I disliked the colour pink and cried when my Mom made me wear frilly dresses to church.

Over the years I could tell I related better to the boys.
Yeah, it had the extra bonus of attention of the opposite sex, but I didn’t even think like that at the time.  It really did make more sense for me to be around the ones that were more like me.

I’m not like the woman on the tv show ‘ The Bachelor’ who all the other ladies hate. No, no, no. By far not the case. I’m likable. I will say that girls have felt jealousy towards me-  even my own two best friends ( who are still my best friends ( not jealous anymore though   ) ) and that most of the time, I didn’t realize this was so until after the fact.

I feel more comfortable and at ease with a male.
But Not so much today. In fact, I am trying to branch out and get my feet better suited for female grounds. For I know in my next relationship I will only have female companions. That’s what I want.

So this swings back around to my desire to birth and raise a boy.
I feel like I understand them better. I’m more familiar and attuned to them.
They make more sense to me.

Having a girl actually scared me. I feel that I wouldn’t have been as good of a Mother, had I had a girl. Truly. I feel like I would have had less patience and been more mean.

Now I’ll be okay with having a girl.
I feel very very fortunate to have had the boy I so very much desired.

Thank you egg and sperm and timing and whatever else the heck makes up the sex of a child.