Must We Flirt to Survive?

I’ll just get it out there: I really can’t flirt. I mean, really.

I’m the girl who sends pictures of her dog’s ears in response to Snapchats featuring perfectly chiseled ab situations. Also the girl who asks you about your relationship with your grandmother instead of playfully punching your shoulder and telling you not to look at me “that way.” And also the girl who purses her eyebrows and avoids eye-contact with attractive men because she doesn’t want to hurt herself by becoming attached to a guy only interested in a little self-esteem-boosting flirtation.

Let’s unpack that.

Okay, let me first validate myself to you for a hot second. During my seventh-grade year, equipped with side-bangs and unfortunately train-tracked teeth, I had not one but two flirtationships. My mom, of course, did not allow me to go to the movies with said boys, thus hastily terminating my angsty tween love life. But, all the same, I flirted once upon a time. And I was probably good at it for a girl whose only reference was Twilight.

You might be wondering, “Okay Zoe, did you ever actually speak with these boys in person??”

Well, I’m glad you asked. Heck no.

Even in the age of pre-social media, I found ways to hide behind a virtual persona much more fabulous and mysterious than reality. Up until the devastating roadblocks set out by my loving mother, I kept the heat going (ewhh) pretty strong with winking smiley faces and endless rounds of 20-Question’s via text.

Fast forward a fair seven years or so, and I can barely remember a time I felt genuinely flirtatious.

As a single gal in her twenties, common law (otherwise known as Sex and the City) tells us I should be dating seven new men every other weekend, smirking my way into free martinis from the bartender, or at the very least wearing stilettos and silk camisoles to Sunday brunch with the gals. None of which appears to be going for me as of late.

And I’m not claiming to be some rare breed. There are a lot of us in this boat (horrible analogy given the never-ending flirtationship drought I’ve entered), I’m sure. So, what’s with all this emphasis on flirting?

Must we flirt to survive?

It’s a tough world out there. Even if you aren’t interested in locking down a relationship, there is still a lot of pressure to be on Tinder, Bumble, or doing the DM thing from time to time. So when none of that is happening, it can feel like something’s off. Heck, even biology tells us we need to flirting gods and goddesses. Think about all those mating calls and puffed-up chests in the wild. Male peacocks even gave up flight to be the class flirts. I mean, I want to flirt, but my default goes from “Hi, I’m Zoe,” to “tell me about your economics class,” in 3.5 seconds.

I’d be a bomb asset to any HR department, but an asset to a frisky night out on the town? Not so much.

Figuring it out.

After lots of self-awareness sessions and a few trips around the block, I’ve realized I value plain ole’ connection over some fleeting moment where two people manage to be just corny enough to set off butterflies without completely sacrificing their self dignity.

Connection, to me, should feel natural. Not like I am putting on a show or hollering a mating call to convince someone (friend or more-than-friend) that I am worth their time. I’m not saying we shouldn’t seek to have playful moments with potential partners, nor am I insinuating that flirting always comes across as forced and unnatural (unless you’re me). But I do think we should all be a little more in-tune to our expectations for this whole dating thing…because it’s a hard thing. So cut yourself some slack, and stop preparing perfectly curated one-liners before every freaking coffee date.