Guidebook for Awesomeness: How Not to Flirt

[Poppy Fields]

I like to laugh, even if it’s at myself. And I like to make others laugh too.
Not for praise or the attention, but because I find it genuinely satisfying on a cellular level to spread mirth. To this end, I am not above publicly displaying my horrible social failures for the benefit of others.

While commenting back-and-forth with Clay, the subject of being Irish and kneecaps came up and I said I had a funny story to go with that. This is that story.

How Not to Flirt: A Cautionary Tale for the Children, Because I Believe the Children Are Our Future, A Precious Resource and If a Sperm is Wasted, God Gets Quite Irate
By Poppy Fields

So there I was, young and dumb and full of… all those childish things like hope and dreams and other such delusions. I was so young and dumb that I was at fashion school because – get this – I actually believed that I would be able to support myself… te hee… making clothes that other people would buy! AHAHAHAHA! Aaah, those were the days.

Anyway, there was a girl in my class who was much older than the rest of us (30 vs. 20) who had a brother who would sometimes stop by the school at the end of the day. She had several brothers, but I only ever met the one. He was beautiful. Buh-yoo-daful. He looked like a children’s bible Jesus: all long brown hair, deep blue eyes and he didn’t wear shoes. Yep, didn’t wear shoes. Not ‘cos he was a filthy stinking hippie; he just didn’t feel that shoes were for him. (Kudos to him though: he didn’t drive so he did a lot of walking in the city.)

Beautiful Jesus Brother also practiced multiple martial arts – be still my heart – and he didn’t so much walk, as glide. No, really. Of course, being the painfully shy, social retread that I am, I never actually spoke to him when he was around, but I did a damn fine job of staring longingly from a distance and imagining several filthy scenarios starring him in a lead role.

One day – one of many days – I had a migraine, because I have awesome genes and function at a constant level of elevated stress. After class I went back to my sad little flat, climbed the sad little stairs, pulled on my sad little tracksuit pants and white sports socks and crawled into my sad little bed to pray for sweet, merciful death. After a while, I heard bells. I was pretty stoned on painkillers and giggled at the thought of fairies in my flat. But the bells got closer and closer and seemed to stop outside my door. And then there was knocking. On my door. Sweet, merciful Death? Finally?

I bumbled downstairs in all my sad little glory to find Beautiful Jesus Brother waiting to be let in.
With flowers.
Now I knew I was hallucinating.
But no. This man, this marvelous, beautiful man who I had never had any other contact with other than to molest in the privacy of my own head, had heard I was feeling piqued, bought flowers, climbed on a bus and traveled an hour across town to make me feel better.

Glee!!!

Amazingly enough, I managed to gather my scattered wits enough to let him in and form coherent sentences and string them together in something resembling conversation for a while. At least I think that’s what happened. It’s all a little blurry. Recap: social retread + migraine + hiiiiiiigh on painkillers. After an hour or so he had to leave to forge his way back across town.

Awww, sadness.

Here’s where it gets good though.

As he’s walking across the parking lot of the apartment building I lived in, I lean out of my second story window, maniacal grin plastered on my face, and yell: “I’m going to shoot you in the knee caps so you can’t leave!”
Oh no she di’int! Oh yes, she did. Because that’s how awesome I am.

The moral of the story is: boys don’t think it’s especially cute or attractive when you show your affection by threatening them with physical violence. Go figure, huh?

The End.
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FAQ

Did you ever see him again?
No. Sadly, sadly no. He never even came back to class to see his sister.

Surely his sister filled you in on the deets?
No. Sigh. And later that year she totally stole my ideas for our fashion show. B****.

Did you fetishise the flowers once they were dried up?
Absolutely. I found a hair of his on my couch after he left and wound it round three of the dried flowers and hung it above my bed!!! It brought me neither luck nor lays.

But I only like happy endings!
Sometimes, when the stars align just right and the magic of Sweet Mother Internet is strong, 2 social retreads meet and fall in love and at least have each other to talk to in awkward social situations. Hoorays!
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I encourage you to share your own lessons from the deep, dark past. Remember, it's for the good of the children ;)

[Poppy Fields]

Clay: I'm something of a Monty Python nerd; about a Level 3. Gliding Jesus would forgive me, knowing my intentions were pure... oh, wait, no. Those intentions were the opposite of pure! Yeah, I'd be stuffed.

MaMaJ: I value your love, but without a shotgun ;D

calc-theme: Thank you; I forget how much I enjoy writing until I start writing again. I can't promise it will always be teh LOLs (gotta leave room for SHOES!), but I do plan on updating on a regular basis here.

[calculationtheme__xo]

HAhahaha! You are hilarious! Please write something every day. You are a genius.
Love, CL.
xoxo

[Clay Stephenson]

Well any time you quote Monty Python songs that gets major laughs. You did indeed make me laugh out loud at that point. The story was wonderful. I guess the moral is when you have a clear knee shot take it before gliding Jesus glides away. But he probably would just heal himself and you would be going to hell. On second thought you did the right thing.

Pester Notice#2

[Poppy Fields]

::curtsey::
Laughs? Mission accomplished!

[Lil_Bit {★}]

AWWWWWWWWWWWWW........Social retards! thats me and my Hubbers! hehehe

[Vivien V]

Oh my lawd how funny is this??? I'm actually laughing my ass off. I recently met a fella, REALLY liked him had a big crush, tried 'flirting' but alas he's moving away, sucks, but your story makes me feel better <3