Flirting is a fine art.
I think women are either born with the talent or not.
I, for one, am a champ.
My first subject was my daddy.
If I wanted him to take me with him to pick up the Sunday paper and bagels I’d look up at him with my cute little smile and he was putty.
When I was going to summer camp we went to the store that the camp recommended we go to to buy clothes. I just blinked my baby hazels at him and he not only got me what I wanted but he bought me the full camp uniform, neckerchief and hat included because, “I don’t want anyone to have anything that you don’t have”.
Interestingly I was pretty much ostracized for the first week of camp just for putting said outfit on when we lined up for breakfast on morning one. It seems that the camp “suggestion” was pretty much ignored by everyone else.
This taught me that you have to use this gift judiciously.
As I got older, a raise in my allowance? Piece o’ cake.
When I went to college I needed a car? Lo and behold, a Studebaker Lark was mine.
I haven’t done it in 40 years but I learned last night I haven’t forgotten the art.
Miss Liz invited me to go with her to a restaurant in Brooklyn to sample the wares of a chef from Rome. The food was free but you had to pay for your wine or beer.
We met two of her friends there Tiz and Jessica. They were beautiful and funny and even though they were very young, they made me feel welcome.
The chef, Stefano, made a variety of different little sandwiches and you were able to sample some or all. He suggested that I try the meatball.
“It is my grandmother’s recipe, I think you’ll like it”
He had an adorable Italian accent. When he came around and stopped at our table he asked how I liked the meatballs.
“The best I ever had. You did your grandmother proud”
“Then we should go out”. ( His english wasn’t very good but that’s what I think he said)
From a far off memory I pulled a flirty response out and flashed my eyelashes .
“You put a meatball in each pocket and I’m there.”