While watching the morning news I sometimes surf channels. Today on some channel I came across a talk-show host discussing some woman's flirting techniques, one among them being the hair-flip.
Very interesting, this. The little ways men and women have to signal attraction to one another. For some reason these common signals have never been easy for me to master. It's all been pretty much verbal for me, rather than such physical subtleties as the hair-flip.
However. There was that one memorable occasion, a decade ago now. There was this certain gentleman who had casually breezed into the scene and totally thrown my 100% accurate that-guy-likes-you radar out of whack. I liked him. And now I had no real idea if he liked me! Zounds! It was simply too confounding.
So one evening I arrived early at a certain restaurant for our date, already nervous. By the time he arrived, I was a veritable wreck. I babbled on for several minutes. And then, horror of horrors, I asked him, I actually asked him, "How does my hair look?" (It was a marginally new hairstyle, undetectable to all but myself.)
To his credit, he manfully answered with a perfectly acceptable compliment. But for me, it was dreadful. I excused myself and ran to the restroom. There I proceeded to give myself a lacerating mental thrashing. I've lost much of the transcript, mercifully, because the tongue-lashing was extreme in its severity. You see, I was convinced that an intelligent specimen such as this gent here was certain to lose esteem for me based on my having asked such a patently daft question.
Thankfully he did no such thing. Today, a decade later, I brought it up again. I even asked him rather timidly, "Did I do the hair-flip?"
"No, " he replied, laughing. "You're not a hair-flipper."
Good. Even if he had confounded my radar, he didn't turn me into the totally opposite version of myself. Still, he did make me into a blithering idiot for that one evening, though.
Maybe I should forgive him already.