The count-down to my Euro-travels has begun, and-starting Wednesday-The Biker and I will be apart for a good six weeks. It’s terrifying and liberating at the same time. After about a month in what must be characterized as full-on-relationship-mode, it practically feels like we’re joined at the hip. I’ve flaked on brunch with the girls to watch cycling races on ESPN, my legs wrapped around him, Gevalia within reach. I’ve dodged overtime only to seek refuge in his armpit, and biked for miles on end in Malibu Canyon just so I could enjoy the view of his phenomenal shape (and improve my own).
On one hand, our constant displays of amour and affection makes me want to walk around with a big smile on my face, a l¡ the cat that ate the canary. On the other hand, I get queasy and feel disgustingly couple-ish when I realize I haven’t enjoyed as much as a single meal on my own for God-knows-how-long. I see how I’m in actual danger of turning into one of those smug appendix-type-girls. The ones who won’t make plans with a girlfriend unless her beau: a) already has plans to go out with the boys, b) is working overtime, or c) has given his written permission that it’s OK to indulge in a night with the girls. (Of course, that’s providing that absolutely no creatures with excess Y-chromosomes are present). Where the hell did my independence go?
All’s not lost yet though, and last week I managed to cut the umbilical cord long enough to attend an industry trade show in New York. It was heaven being in the city, and even though I love our little surfer-town-with it’s beautiful beaches and quaint downtown area-there’s nothing like a few days in NYC to kick you into a higher gear. The funky shops, crazy cab drivers, and nauseatingly fast pace of city living; it’s all part of the charm. And that’s not even mentioning all the cute guys gallivanting around, perfectly styled, groomed, and with a hint of macho-arrogance. Even if a lot of these types are way too metro for my taste, that didn’t stop me from getting my flirt on, and that’s exactly what I did.
I flirted my way through Upper Manhattan, The Meatpacking District, and SoHo. I batted my eyes and flashed my teeth at every suave member of the male species I passed. I continued this all the way to the airport, and that’s when it occurred to me that my brain must be working in reverse or something. While waiting for my delayed flight, I was approached by this tall, handsome stranger-very Keanu Reeves-asking if I knew where we’d been re-gated to. We started talking only to discover that we were both from the Santa Barbara area, had attended the same trade show, and bike, run and snowboard in our spare time. The conversation was so much fun that I almost forgot how much I dread being stuck in airports, and before I knew it we had exchanged phone numbers. The guy was attractive, objectively speaking. Polite and articulate; the kind of guy my dad would loan his Mercedes to without a blink. But, it wasn’t until after I landed at LAX that I realized what I had done. I’m in a relationship for Christ’s sake; I’m not supposed to be giving out my number to strangers!
Before you judge me, I’d like to explain. Somehow when I get a boyfriend, after an extended period of solo-time, I tend to revert back to the behavior of the carefree, unattached singleton (just for a short while). It’s like it’s so programmed in me that my instincts have yet to catch up to my brain. Reversely, when I break up with someone after years of couple’s vacations and his and hers towel sets, I can’t even bring myself to look at another guy for the longest time. I feel like it would be cheating. How crazy is that?!
The Handsome Stranger texted me, but I didn’t text back. He hasn’t called and I think I’m in the clear. Phew.
That said, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with an innocent flirt from time to time. I mean, we all get it: that tingly feeling in our toes when someone is obviously checking us out and ends up sending us an approving grin. You don’t need to be single-or have super model looks-to enjoy a light flirtation with a bartender at Lucky’s ,or even a random guy at the grocery store. That’s what’s so sweet about flirting. It’s fun and fabulous without the implications, rules, and analysis-paralysis that often accompanies a date.
I even find a little flirtatious innuendo between colleagues perk-a-licious! When executed with ease and tease it can defuse a situation, take stress off while working those excruciatingly long hours, and it’s harmless-as long as you’re both enjoying it.
So, where do you draw the line?
I’ll flirt shamelessly with anything that walks, as long as my partner is not around. I flirt on the sly if I don’t want anyone to see me (in the case I may be closing other doors). I’ll flirt, but I won’t accept drinks from strangers. I don’t flirt if I wouldn’t want my better half to flirt when I’m not around
I’m passing the baton on to Ryanwhile I’m off to Europe for some welcome flirting and feasting. He’s agreed to guest-blog for the next two weeks, and he’s guaranteed to entertain you with tales and tips on love, sex, and romance. I know he will do a fabulous job dishing about dating from a guys perspective, so enjoy y’all!
And by the way, please don’t give up on the new forum. I know it may seem slow and tedious to post comments compared to before, and many of you have emailed me instead. Thanks. But keep at it. I miss all of your advice.
See you in a couple of weeks everyone. Ryan, it’s all yours!