Read the first line

I am a bad flirt.

I've always known this, mostly because I don't dedicate much time to thinking about the act of flirting, and also when I think someone is trying to engage in meaningful eye contact with me I usually find it near impossible to look at them back. But also, as I have recently discovered, that I have come to terms with my own limitations after seeing the prowess of those around me.

For a while it would bother me, perhaps I should be more seductive. Surely everyone likes to be attractive, right? But recently I've begun to think of how it feels for the other side. And I think I know how the other side feels because they are probably just like me - drawn into the allure of those who are good at what they do, but most likely never to be one of them.

For, to me, attraction isn't a hard and fast game involving touching, laughing, and sidelong glances.
Instead, it is the irresistible urge to hug someone when you're both up at the net gathering tennis balls.
The strong pull of their shoulder as you're both somewhere up in the mountains gazing silently up at the stars as a party rages just next door.
A knee brushed against my own.
An awkward invitation to a dance after it has been mulled over all day.
Sitting in the trunk of a car, chatting until the sun set.
The comfort of knowing that their front porch will always be open to you, especially when you need it most.
An honest confession.

I guess I've always been a bad flirt because love has always managed to find me in special ways. Though the love may not have always lasted, the process of getting there holds so many precious and tender moments, I certainly have been spoiled, and therefore never really had to learn the art of flirtation.