Thursday, October 21, 2010

Last of the {Lukewarm?} Lovers

I have a patent inability to flirt. I am crappy at it, and I always end up feeling like a complete fool.

All kidding aside, I lack the a$$-kissing gene, and I seriously lack the flirtation gene as well. I think it's probably a function of my intellect...I was this preternaturally adult child, conversing with grown-ups in a way that made them supremely uncomfortable. In fact, anytime I see a child character drawn up that way in modern literature, they usually turn out to be little sociopaths...hmm... At any rate, when I was two, I could order from a menu on my own, but flash forward to impending adolescence and- with hormones came a dearth of aptitude, in my case.

It's truly hypocritical of me to snark too much about Hopkins' ineptitude in this area, because I think the combined awkwardness of the pair of us was enough to keep everyone in our high school in apoplectic giggling fits for three years. (I am sitting here with a dull flush creeping up my neck as I type. Yes, it's that embarrassing to even think about it.) I've written before that I pulled a full-on Carol Burnett and went headfirst down the stairs at my parents' house the last time I saw him...and I'm allegedly poised under normal circumstances. Allegedly.

This is so intensely awful that I can't watch it aped theatrically. I hate Laura's abjection in The Glass Menagerie because I've been there...watching Wesley Wyndham-Pryce suffer quietly on Angel cut a little close. Anytime the nerdy character tries to flirt, well, as in art, so in life. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to kind of fall into step with someone, but otherwise- I make myself look like a total jackass.

So yeah, I guess that's one of the overarching reasons that I end up lodged squarely in the role of 'Girl Friday'...because I can't do 'smoldering temptress' without going up in flames.

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