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The Secret to Finding the Perfect Date: Flirting at a Funeral
Now that spring is close‚ with warm weather and the beach on the horizon‚ and free time‚ I know that many of my dear male readers would appreciate some tips on how to conquer the girl of their dreams. Especially since there is nothing worse than going to the movies on a Sunday in August with nothing other than some popcorn for company. Some of these tips are also valid for my dear female readers to find the guy of their dreams‚ but‚ if you don’t mind my asking: Why would you want to find the man of your dreams? All men are the same‚ except for the ones who aren’t‚ and those ones aren’t on the spring market. Good luck.
READ MORE from Itxu DÃaz: The Bloodbath Hoax Requires an Incendiary Rant Against Childhood Friends
The first thing to know is where to flirt. Theoretically‚ you can flirt anywhere there is a girl. But if what you are really looking for is a lifelong love‚ forget about parks and gardens‚ luxurious private parties‚ and the queue for a fitting room of a fashion store: Go to a funeral. A relationship that begins in tears at a funeral‚ under the active gaze of the dead‚ can only get better. Great and lasting marriages have come from sad funerals. None come to mind right now.
Flirting at a funeral requires courage‚ poise‚ and style to wear the mourning suit with a smile. But it has the advantage that it is not necessary to introduce yourself to the girl‚ especially if she is the widow. No one will ask you what you are doing there‚ why you are crying‚ why you are talking to her‚ or why you have been in line three times to give kisses and condolences. Avoid‚ however‚ joking in the presence of your future love. I know you’ve read in all those magazines for brainless teenagers that women like guys with a sense of humor‚ but for reasons I can’t explain‚ when they’re burying a loved one‚ girls tend to lack a sense of humor. And if that’s not the case‚ then that woman is no good for you. Take it from me.
Another suitable place to flirt is the hospital‚ in the queue for blood tests. You look at her. She looks at you. You sigh. She sighs. You check the clock. She looks at the clock. You sit‚ waiting for the needle. She sits‚ waiting for the needle. You faint at the sight of the needle. She laughs. You crack an eyebrow in the fall. She cries with laughter. You get three stitches. She grasps a Kleenex to wipe her tears.
Once recovered‚ at the hospital door‚ you are presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. The perfect excuse for the date is as simple as a question‚ “Shall we have breakfast?” Infallible. And the girl‚ just like in old romantic movies‚ answers yes‚ without hesitation‚ except when she realizes you’re carrying a plastic container full of urine in your hand. Do yourself a favor. Check beforehand to see if your analytics include blood and urine‚ and‚ in that case‚ if you meet the girl of your dreams in the waiting room with that horrible little container in your hands‚ put a sock on your head so she won’t recognize you‚ and abort mission. Know that great courtships in history have fallen by the wayside because of a plastic container of urine. No wonder.
There are places where failure is assured. No one has ever managed to flirt on a beach — except dolphins. No one has ever gotten a decent girlfriend at an Erasmus party. On the other hand‚ it is possible to flirt quite well in a library. Flirting in silence is fun‚ because it’s impossible to know what the other person is thinking‚ and they’re almost never thinking what you’re thinking. Perhaps you‚ an astute one‚ will look up from your book‚ The Methodology of Scientific Models in the Empirical Analysis of Southern African Molluscan Reproductive Disease Outbreaks‚ and stare at that beautiful‚ dark-skinned young woman. Perhaps she will return your flirtatious gaze. Perhaps you will hold her gaze with a goofy expression. Maybe you think‚ happily‚ that it is as good as done‚ that you are unstoppable‚ that you’ve got her hooked. And that’s when she finally exclaims out loud‚ visibly annoyed: “What’s wrong with you asshole? Take a picture‚ it will last longer.” Ah‚ the thrills of flirting in a library.
Otherwise‚ if you insist on flirting at night‚ in the dark‚ in a place where it is impossible to talk‚ with a girl you can’t see‚ 10 drinks in‚ and surrounded by guys who look like firefighters‚ you will probably leave the club hugging the umbrella stand at the entrance and telling your friends how you hooked up with a really stylish chick.
There are a number of basic rules for the proper practice of late-night flirting. Never try to pick up a blonde in a nightclub. That’s like going to Paris and taking a picture next to the Eiffel Tower. Too obvious. Don’t try to pick someone up in line for the bathroom either. It’s very unpleasant to have to choose between peeing and getting rid of someone who won’t shut up. And under no circumstances try your luck with a waitress during working hours.Â
Action. Your time has come. Walk away from the bar and take to the dance floor. Besides‚ you’ve probably had too much to drink. Watch out for the stairs. Tripping and breaking the glass on the head of the girl you like is not amusing. Take advantage of the flashes of light to try to clearly target your dream princess. Now‚ once you have selected the victim of your eternal love‚ check your attitude‚ whichever it may be. Drink water. And just before you start the final attack‚ after a fleeting glance‚ make sure that she is really dancing alone‚ and confirm that the bald guy with the huge back and a scar shaking his ass next to her belongs to another group. That guy ate a simpleton like you for breakfast last week‚ which is why his hair has fallen out. I know. Be cautious.
Having ruled out any link between the bald man and his princess‚ approach the lady of your dreams‚ caress the brim of her imaginary hat‚ kneel on the floor‚ and recite a Rilke poem to her with your hand on your heart. After the recital‚ kiss her feet repeatedly‚ and ask her to marry you in the center of the dance floor. See? I told you. It’s impossible to flirt in a discotheque. Now take her heel out of your mouth‚ pick your teeth up off the floor‚ and walk off in search of a good funeral.
Translated by Joel Dalmau.
Buy Itxu DÃaz’s new book‚ I Will Not Eat Crickets: An Angry Satirist Declares War on the Globalist Elite‚ here today!
The post The Secret to Finding the Perfect Date: Flirting at a Funeral appeared first on The American Spectator | USA News and Politics.
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