Men, Flirting, and Me

One of the most memorable moments from last sem was when my classmate, HK princess W, asked me, “How many boyfriends have you had?”

This happened during a rare lull in our new media class, when Dr. D was busy tinkering with the PC, trying to restart one of those Youtube videos that have become staples of his lecture. For a moment there, I didn’t know how to answer W. I was looking at her, face-to-face, trapped in rows of seats and tables, with nowhere to go. I wanted to talk to one of my classmates, but the evasion would be too obvious. I wanted to go to the loo, but that was more obvious. I wanted to scream at Dr. D, “Dammit, D, get this started!” But he was no help at all.  

And then, I finally told W the Truth. “None.”

“What?” she asked, sceptical. “I would have thought you have tons of exes!” She looked at me for a few more seconds, thinking I must be joking.

The reason W was so surprised was that she knows I’m a big flirt. Aggressive, as some friends half-jestingly describe me. This came to full force last December, when I flirted with all the cute boys (friends I miss) of the old company I used to work for.

The reactions were varied. There was N, one of my all time biggest crushes, who remained rooted to the spot, mumbling, “Of course, of course!” as I told him how hot he’s becoming as he grows older.

There was the totally committed Y, who merely pleaded, “Rachel no, Rachel don’t!” as I kept hugging his comfortably soft body.

But my favourite though was T’s reaction, who gamely withstood my and A’s attempts at winning his heart when we clumsily and drunkenly gyrated next to him. He was so game, but all A and I ended up with were out tarnished prides and some embarrassing photos.

Filipino girls who flirt outrageously are rare. I’m more of the exception than the rule. As a Filipino girl, you’re expected to wait for the guy to make the first move. You’re supposed to play the role of the sweet damsel, poised, not a hair out of place, and never.

But I’ve never been that kind of girl. I grew up with three younger brothers, who were so open and vocal about the girls they liked and lusted over. Subtlety was never one of their assets. Their hunting instincts rubbed off on me.

But I think I really have to tone down the act. My guy friends know that I don’t really mean the whole flirting thing (okay, I half mean it), and they will never take advantage of me because, heck, I’m not their type! But there are people who will, and they might not understand that the whole act is all that... an act. And I know this sounds a little racist, but I now live in a city where there’s a substantial expat (read: white) population. I don’t want to give old white dirty men who look like Santa Claus the idea that I’m easy, when I really am not.

But of course, it’s just so hard for an aging dog like me to learn new tricks. My friend C recently met a guy here who looks like Diego Luna. I just can’t wait to meet him and bat my oh-so-long-and-curly lashes at him. Rar!