I do like a flirt.
The very best kind of flirting leaves me giddy and a little silly, as if I had just necked a bottle of champagne. Only with less burping. Mostly.
Oh, a quality flirt is an uncommon treat. I savour them when they occur. I enjoy each parry and thrust of conversation, the pleasurable jolt of eye contact. I savour every delicious moment of understanding.
A skilfull flirtation is like a Funsize relationship. All that promise and possibility condensed into a five minute phone call or chance encounter in the newsagents, and with none of the bad bits. No regrets or recriminations, no drama, you just smile and move on to the rest of your day.
I like a good flirt. Bad flirts, on the other hand, are, at best, like being slobbered on by an over-exuberant bloodhound and, at worst, like being chatted up by Dirty Bert the comedy perve. A clumsy attempt at flirtation is just awkward and embarrassing for all concerned.
So, tell me. When did you last enjoy a really good flirt?