‘Is that man really winking at me?’ Why we all need flirting lessons – now
After a year of our social lives being in suspended animation, is it any wonder we’ve forgotten how to flirt?
Why hello there, extremely attractive Sunday Telegraph reader. Is that a flaky croissant in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?
See? I’m hopeless at flirting. Always have been. I tend to blame the magazines I read as a teenager for this, which were full of advice that, nowadays, seems frankly deranged.
Take this tip from the February 2001
Cosmopolitan, which I would have read as a moony teenager keen for practical advice on what to do once released from boarding school. “At a restaurant, lose the fork in favour of your fingers. Look him in the eye while you lick off any excess salt or sauce.” Call me prudish, I’m just not sure flinging away the cutlery and slobbering all over one’s hands like a St Bernard is much of a turn-on.
A few issues later, the magazine had another corker, presumably to get the guy who had been so impressed by your method of cleaning gravy off your fingers to commit further. “Take up extreme sports. The point here isn’t so much that you risk your life but that you actually create more of a life outside his orbit.” Got it: remember to pull the parachute cord.
The comforting news is that a new academic study says it’s not just me. According to Professor Menelaos Apostolou, of the University of Nicosia in Cyprus, increasing numbers of us are terrible at flirting. Some 47 per cent of singletons say they “face difficulties attracting a partner”, and the study revealed that this was due to poor technique. Apparently we don’t know how to use chat-up lines or humour or make eye contact to woo others (but hey, can I show you how I get mustard off my thumb?), and this is creating a situation of hopelessness where many people give up.
Don’t kick us when we’re down! Normal life has been suspended for a year and the only flirting I’ve managed is with my fridge. There’s been little opportunity to develop my chat-up lines (is it hot in here or is that my temperature?), my humour is clearly suffering and eye contact can be chilling in a mask. Are you checking me out or about to nick my phone?
On a brief flit into central London for a doctor’s appointment recently, I dropped into a Pret for a coffee and a pee. A tall, sandy-haired man queuing in front of me darted into the loo and reappeared roughly 20 seconds later. “Oh, are you going back in?” I asked him, confused by the speed and seemingly unable to stop myself from attempting to interact with this handsome stranger. “No,” he replied, as his eyes widened as if I’d just grown another head and he hurried away.
It was reported this week that dog trainers were more sought after than vaccines because of all the pandemic puppies. I think a few of us might need human trainers, too. As we approach reentry, someone could make a decent packet by offering behavioural classes and lessons on flirting in a post-pandemic world. What I’d like to know is, can I still touch their knee? When is too soon to ask if they’ve washed their hands? And if I’m invited for a 9pm date, how can I stay up that late when I’ve gone to bed at dusk for the past few months like a medieval peasant?
If all else fails, just remember to throw your spoon on the floor.