Wellllll, fuck me. I did not expect this (very long) post to be so honest, cheerful, kind, and instructive.
But it was.
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I love to flirt.
My wife does not understand how flirting works in any way, shape or form. She's like, totally blind to it. She knows that I love it, and she trusts me, and that part's all good.
I have flirted all over the world.
I once spent a few months at a shitty hotel in Tallinn, Estonia -- btw the coldest place I have ever been -- and the hotel bartender was the same woman, every night.
And I drink the same thing every night, but she always asked me what I wanted.
And I worked on her *so* hard, flirting, and always she had the most delicate cool demurral lines.
It was flirting. I knew it. She knew it. There was flirting going on. But it didn't look like it.
So, one night, after like three months, I came in, and she didn't say anything. She just poured me my regular neat Scotch with a Diet Coke on the side.
Mind you, I'd been ordering this for three fucking months, and she'd never poured it without asking.
I said, "Oh! You poured me a shot of scotch and a diet coke!"
She said, "I'm sorry, sir, I should have asked. Let me get you something else."
"No, no, this is perfect, thank you."
She went down to the other end of the bar for someone else. (It was usually quite empty, at most four customers. Shitty hotel. Shitty hotel bar.)
And when she came back down to my end, I caught her attention.
"So," I said, "Do you think we should tell your husband?"
She frowned, looked into my eyes, looked down, looked left, looked right, then back to my eyes.
"Maybe after Christmas," she said.
Christ I never laughed so hard in my life.
A *magnificent* dance of flirtation.
After that, she always poured my drink when I came in, and we became casual but genuine friends.
