Not like, sexting with a cute human and getting myself off in the process. Not even just remembering that flirty moment where a cute human said something clever and I for once was sure that they were actually definitely into me.
Well, I mean, I’ve done those things too.
No, I mean I regularly lay in my bed imagining a conversation that never happened with a person who doesn’t exist in which we’re fully clothed and just really saying really clever things.
… With my hands down my pants.
“Shit, I almost died” I said, about some scenario where I most certainly came nowhere close to dying.
“Don’t die! I need my fisting buddy!” He said, about a workshop we were planning on going to together. “That sounds far dirtier than I mean…” he quickly added.
“Don’t worry, I’d never miss out on being your fisting buddy.” I replied with a smirk “…and that sounds just about as dirty as I mean.”
It’s feels kind of like Bobby Fischer playing chess against himself, you know, just with more lube. See, cause that’s the bit I like most about flirting- the game, the puzzle, the mental gymnastics you go through, trying to control the conversation and steer it in just the right direction.
It’s all laid out for me, like a chess board, trying to stay three steps ahead, and the best people, the ones that make my clit hard, are the ones that can blindside me. The people that can suddenly make me realize they’ve been controlling this interaction from the start and they come out of nowhere with a line that never even occurred to me.
There’s nothing quite like a new crush, you’re not sure if they like you, not even quite sure if you like them, but you are sure that you want to know more.
I have a new crush and it’s on someone I most definitely should not have a crush on. We’re in a room with a few other people, standing just a little closer than we should when I ask where I should put something down.
“There” he gestures with his chin and I turn to do as he asked. He leans forward and I can feel the heat of his chest against my back.
“Good Girl” he says, so only I can hear.
Flirting is more than just a game of wits, with a good partner (and a compatible one) it’s like tennis, not professional tennis, but that tennis you played in gym class. You know, where you and your partner were both really bad at it, and keeping the ball moving was more exciting than actually scoring?
You’re both in it together, building this interaction from the ground up. You’re creating inside jokes, looking for more excuses to be in each others company, touching and smiling and finding opportunities to casually slide in1 an innuendo…or three. Bonus points if you can hint to your kinks when you do it.
My attraction to a good flirt supersedes anything else, which has a habit of getting me in trouble. It’s left me conflicted in my sudden interest in people I have no physical chemistry with, or people whose politics are garbage, or people who just plain annoy me. I’ve had entire crushes founded on nothing more than the banter I can have with someone, or as little as a well placed wink.
A good flirt is more than just that though, it teaches me so much about the person I’m talking to. Their wit displays a certain intelligence, their banter helps me gauge their social competence, and that cocky smirk… well… that just makes me want to bone them.
I once spent a few weeks flirting with a bisexual Scottish boy who would regale me with tales of his years in an all boys Catholic school. “What if, there was a grown up kinksters version of that Catholic school?” I posited. “What would that look like?”
We spent hours building the scenes, we could have classrooms with workshop schedules, and punishments for skipping class (but only the fun kind). There would be a locker room, and a library, and a surplus of classrooms. There could be a principal, and a staff of teachers, plus and handful of older students to “corrupt” the newbies.
It was perfect, and now I’m just mad it doesn’t exist.
I have this theory, that vanilla interests round their attractions down to simply their “type” or “tastes” and kinksters round everything up to a kink. My attraction to a well tailored suit, my interest in impact, puppy play, restraint, collars, even blowjobs- I consider them all my kinks. I only have two fetishes, two things that I can’t possibly get off without at least thinking about.2 Power exchange, which I talk about all the damn time, and flirting.
It didn’t always feel quite right calling something so simple, and arguably non-sexual, as flirting a “fetish”, I suppose I worried it would take away from my srs kinkster cred. But then I remembered that’s not a thing and got the fuck over it, because by definition, flirting is 110% my fetish, and I love every second of it.