I think this may be why I’ve never been an ambassador of the ‘flirt to convert’ idiom. If I was interested in someone who wasn’t into Jesus, I’d sure as heck have to rely on God’s mysterious ways to woo them into relationship with him and not on my feminine mystique. Flirting remains a foreign concept and after successfully managing to go 25 years without dating (at least, knowingly), it’s probably a good reflection that I’m not a flirter, or at least not a good one.
One thing that I do know I’m good at is being myself, irrespective of the social situation. This doesn’t mean I am arrogant or inconsiderate. While I lack flirtelligence, I do have a healthy level of emotional intelligence (and a compulsive need to create hybrid words) and can judge the appropriate behaviour for an encounter. What I mean to say is that the Zara you meet at a party, at church or at the pub is the same, consistent. Consistently dorky, yes, but consistent nevertheless.
Up until very recently I felt that maybe I needed to learn to flirt (and when I say learn, I mean an extensive google search) and modify the way I interact with men. However, I’d rather stick at the area I excel in, which is being the woman the Lord created, unencumbered. I would prefer a man to be frightened away by my ever growing bunch of eccentricities than my creepy attempt at sexy and mysterious.
At least that way, we avoid that awkward day in the future when my husband walks into our loungeroom and finds me interpretive dancing in my elmo pyjamas to Queen while vaccuming and eating peanut butter sandwiches. Instead of being confounded and wondering what happened to his sexy and mysterious wife, he’ll be glad that when we met, I was myself, dork and all.
