Guess who doesn't know how to flirt?

Surprise, surprise. Miss Awkward.

Oh sure, I can do it with older guys who come into for a few Bud Lites and a good time. Psh, I am the QUEEN of Flirting With Older Gentlemen Customers. I could teach classes on that. Shit, I made a lot of money tonight (and even got a room key -- ha!!!) doing just that. They love me, and most times, I love them.

So things were going well, shitting around with Insurance Salesmen 1-4... self-depricating humor, giving them shit, pretending that I care how they differ from Aflac (aside from the duck), joking, laughing, blah blah blah, having a genuinely great time.

These two Hot Hot Hot Southern Boys entered the bar and ordered their Sam Adams and their Spotted Cows... and Hot Hot Hot Southern Boy who was picking up the tab started flirting with me. Like, blatantly flirting with me. Unmistakably.

I froze up. I smiled and made an excuse that I had to go in the back cooler and get more Miller Lite. I walked into the cooler, put my hands on my hips, and hung my head. I can flirt effortlessly with four 40-year-old Insurance Salesmen, but Hot Hot Hot Southern Boy, who is initiating the flirting? God. Of course not. Maybe I am just destined to flirt with and lust after older men. They apparently are easier to talk to than sweet Hot Hot Hot Southern Boys named Jason who speak softly with cute accents and leave great tips and wink and smile.

It's amazing that I've ever had sex. Or a date. Or gotten a guy's phone number. Or talked to a guy. Or anything. Jesus.