La, sir, spare my blushes!
L’amour, toujour, l’amour.
As the French so eloquently and succinctly say, it is all about love. And flirting has long been the delightful prelude to love.
In Victorian times, no properly brought up young lady’s education was complete without instruction in the gentle art of flirting with her fan. The placement of the fan, how she wielded it – all sent signals.
“Will she or won’t she…” her suitor wondered, “dance the next quadrille with me?”
The flash of her eyes above a bit of lace and feathers could thrill the hopeful beau, or dash his hopes to pieces.
As I observed at the YMCA the other night, the gentle art of flirting is still practiced, with a few small differences. A young lady still sends signals, but instead of a fan she now uses body language. Literally. Words embroidered on her clothing send a subtle message for the discriminating suitor to interpret.
“What” her eager swain puzzles, “can be the meaning of these words emblazoned across the tiny bit of Lycra clinging to her, er, um, booty? junk in the trunk? badonkadonk?” The message printed across her nether cheeks read:
“Pinch me”
La, sir..meet me in the locker room for a quickie.
Will she or won’t she…? I’d say she probably will.
Whether speaking with a fan or a skin-tight a** covering, woman continues to whisper to man – the subtle language of love. Or not too subtle. The message was about as subtle as a sledgehammer in this particular case, but still. You get my drift.
Ah, l’amour.
I do believe you’ve inspired a post in me, peg. And I am proud to say that my daughter dead out refuses to wear any text emblazoned on her buttockal regions.
I fully endorse your daughter’s decision not to turn her keester into a buttockal message board.
i just spit my coffee out with the word ‘buttockal’. Just thought I’d let you know. Carry on.
That IS a great word, isn’t it? I’m going to use it often from now on.
Agreed! That might be my new favorite as well. And I applaud your daughter’s refusal to advertise on her bottom. That is a girl with a good head on her shoulders. And a good bottom on her . . . nevermind.
Plunging necklines and tattoos work wonders too – in today’s art of subtle flirting. What have we come to? I love this post and thanks so much for sharing!
I was going to write about the plunging necklines angle, too. When did that get to be OK in public? How come I didn’t get the memo?
So…instead of fans we use our fannies. What’s the problem?
Tee hee hee. Sorry. I had to.
I’m glad you wrote about this. The words on the toosh really bother me. The seaside shops in NJ sell some REAL gems, as I’m sure you can imagine. Hmm. Perhaps I found my next giveaway…
Tee hee is right – wish I’d had that as the tag line.
I am seriously considering marketing T-shirts to benefit cancer research that say Cancer Can Kiss My Ass, but I keep thinking about all the little children in the world who can read. Let’s try to spare them, shall we, people?
Actually, I think that’s a GREAT idea! I think I told you about the breast cancer fundraiser t-shirts my friends made that said, “Arghh you can take my booty, but leave me chest alone” and there was a picture of a pirate’s chest. Still one of my favorite t-shirts!
I LOVE that shirt! But there aren’t any bad words on it. I’m not sure I’m ready for my ass to be in everyone’s face…wait a minute, that came out wrong.
*giggle*
As Peg said, this would’ve been a great tagline!
I prefer to rely on my wit. (There’s probably a reason I didn’t date much, eh?)
But your strategy worked! You end up engaged to a great guy, instead of doing quickies with a succession of jerks.
I love this comment! I truly have no complaints. If I’d worn mascara this morning, I might have, because I got all misty-eyed thinking about how grateful I am, but I didn’t . . . so it’s alllll good here!
Oh, so they’re flirting. I just thought they were hopelessly tacky with no particular agenda in mind.
I think there’s a definite agenda – get maximum notice for the bits being (nominally) covered.
So, they’re hopelessly tacky WITH an agenda – that makes all the difference.
Yup – you nailed it.
The placement of my fan and how I wield it depends entirely on whether or not I am having yet another freakin’ hot flash….I simply must be more careful…
I detest clothing with words on it – especially tacky stuff.
And do people still flirt? I’ve been in a monotonous, er, um I mean monogamous relationship for so long I can’t even remember flirting…
My sister Tar uses a fan for those flashes, too. Maybe you can both work on the flirty eyes to go with it, so your sweeties will read your message and say “you got something in your eye?”
Good idea.
Ha Ha! Laughed out loud, Katy. I have a collection of fold fans from mydays in Japan. That was before I needed to have one with me all the time for the blasted hot flashes.
When school starts some young ladies will be wearing very tight, unbecoming clothes, some harboring the not so subtle script you outlined above. And then there’s the way too short shorts – to school!
Modesty is a principle many of our youth have no clue about.
Here in Florida some of the students wear very little to class. I am sometimes amazed, sometimes just dumbfounded at what passes for acceptable wear in public. But then again, I’m an old grandma.
hm. Note to self: buy frilly fan for hot flashes.
Course, I’d probably use the fan to hit Jim upside the head when he tells me it’s not that hot in here.
Around here – the saying goes (when faced with a woman about to burst into flame) “If you can’t say something nice, shut up and fan me…”
This is why Victorian fan moves aren’t nearly as effective as they were pre-booty shorts.
Hey, I was just commenting at your blog at the EXACT same moment you were here. Weird, that is!
. . .and I am trying to write about something that happened at my gym. Do you think we might be the same person?!?
I hope so – I look pretty good with the dark hair and glasses – 20 years younger!
Wow, and I’m commenting like two hours later. Wait, did you get peanut butter on my chocolate …??
Wait a minute here…YOU have dark hair and glasses as well. We’re triplets!
I’m gonna get me some of those! I mean the fan and the pinch-me pants. Imagine the results when I use them TOGETHER!
My first thought when I saw this young lady was “Will she get mad if somebody follows her command?” Then, “Does she have a right to (get mad)?”
Oh, ain’t love grand?
Speaking of grand…I have the luxury of owning an extra-wide badonkadonk, so I’m capable of sending men signals with entire paragraphs.
Darla, you so hot you can send men SMOKE signals, is all!
ooh…yowza! thank ya much. Are you in some contest I don’t know about?
Nah, I’ve practically given up on contests. I can be made to feel inadequate at home without all that work!
I shall ask my man tonight if he would prefer me to lure him to the bedroom with some gentle fanning, or some tight ass pants spelling out exactly what I want him to do. I fear I know the answer…
Well, jeez, Vanessa, now that you’ve got him there’s no need for all that subtlety, but in the “getting to know you” phase…maybe a little bit of mystery is OK?
Yes, the trouble is though, men are quite…I won’t say ‘simple’, I’ll say ‘straightforward’, they don’t always understand subtlety, so actually maybe the modern way makes more sense, the instructions are printed on the women’s clothes so the men don’t have to try and figure out what’s expected of them.
Ha ha! Those shirts with the arrows pointing down now make all kinds of sense.
SO that’s what I’m doing wrong. Thanks Peg! I’ll ditch my fan and stitch my britches.
That’s what all the gals are doing now, Lorna.
Better get my needle and thread out… Hmmm, somehow that seems very unflirty.
Oh shoot, Meg-O-Lamb, I just got a badonkadonk pair of shorts with print across and it was able to accommodate the entire beginning of the opening from Star Wars:
In a galaxy, far, far away …
Now all you need is somebody willing to crouch down close enough to READ the entire beginning of Star Wars off of your, um, bottom billboard.
Hey. Me again. I just had to resubscribe to your blog. Again. Hopefully the 267th time’s the charm.
Please subscribe to my blog 267 times, Dar Dar! I need my stats boosted something fierce.
You and me both, MJ. I try and I try and my stats are still in the toilet lately. Gah! Who needs em? Me? Yeah. That’s right. I do.
You’re a student now. Numbers are meaningless, unless it’s about how many meta-marsupials are in the hand or lemurs are in the leg. See I know my anatomy.
Please send all of your readers to Peg and me whilst you are on your student visa.
Will do…if you go to my class for me and record the lectures?
And all I need to remember is that song…”the hip bone’s connected to the thigh bone…the thigh bone’s connected to the…lemur bone…”
Yeah, the stats continue to be horrendous around the blog and I don’t even show up in my own Reader. Your last post, on the other hand, showed up twice, along with B-Man’s! Heavy sigh.
I also got B-man’s post twice. And yours and Angie’s not at all.
But all is right with the world now that I’ve visited here and saw that beautiful FP circle icon with the little hearts, it’s a sight to behold, Miss Pegoliciousnessessness.
You don’t think those hearts are just…too, too much? I’ve heard that SOME people think that. I don’t see it, personally. Although I must say that Freshly Pressed rectangle now residing on YOUR fab blog has a very classic look to it.
Me too with no Angie, but mine didn’t show up in my own Reader at all. You got it twice?
I keep blaming my lousy stats on Reader issues, but what if it’s really just a general smartening up of the general reading population? Most disheartening!
Choosy readers, choose Peg!
Or is it Jif, I can’t remember.
perish the thought!
And I meant that I didn’t get yours or Angie’s blog in my reader at all.
I’ve got a T-shirt that says “Read Me” across my manly pecs. Sadly most people quit reading after the word “read”
Maybe the shirt is straining so hard over your manly pecs that they just can’t make out the last word. Eh? Eh? Ever think of that?
You may be right, but I’m moore of the opinion that they just don’t feel like reading so much.
Aw, c’mon, you KNOW they don’t read the instructions!
For fans or shorts?
Well played!
Sigh. I miss the old days when T-shirts were the sex billboard. Such finesse! Such subtlety! Soon we won’t need to wear clothes at all. The flirt, the promotion, and the act all simultaneous. Such a time-saver!
My, what a magical world you envision, Sandy. The really troubling part is, you’re probably right!
It is a past time of mine to sit in court, waiting until my turn to call a case, and read the messages printed not only on the people’s clothing, but on their skin as well. And being as they are in a respectable court of law, of course they wear the most skin baring clothing that they own. So it allows for LOTS of reading material.
And I am with all of the above regarding the length of message that could be printed on my very own ample bottom. Probably the entire text of the Bill of Rights or Constitution. Maybe at least then, I’d get a smart man!
Misty, I think you’re on to something here. Bottom messages for the thinking person “Four score and seven years ago…”
People watching is a fascinating/terrifying occupation, isn’t it?
I’ve got to get myself one of those fans.
I’m sure you would be great with a fan, as long as you don’t set it on fire with your pipe. Maybe one prop at a time, hmmm?
Noooooooooooo! Horrible! That slut! Where’d she buy those? I mean, I’m just wondering….for research purposes.
Sluts R Us – naturally!
So you’re saying that I should donate my “I will dance the next quadrille with you” booty shorts to the thrift store? Darn it! I thought they were so subtle…
No, keep the shorts..just accessorize with a feathered fan.