Born to be Bold
My mother said when she pulled up to the school to pick me up, she was always astounded by my confidence – the way I carried myself, the way I spoke to others, the way I was in my being. She said she did not know where it came from.
I spent most of my years as a woman on a leash – I mean this with respect, not disparagement. I was married. Three times as a matter of fact. And in those marriages, I was in love with my husband – make no mistake. But I was a flirt. A shameless flirt. I likened myself to one of those dogs on a leash, that bark bark bark, but if you let them off the leash they would tuck tail and run. In other words, my confidence in flirting came from the fact that after I spoke with you with twinkly eyes, I was gonna go home with my husband. And be happy.
This never got in the way of anything as far as I could tell until it did. I first noticed there was a problem when one time in California, my then husband and I went to a garden party. I met this man, who honestly I thought was gay, and we laughed and cajoled and joked and had us a good old time – talking about everything from shoes to grey hairs. And when it was time to leave, my then husband came over to get me and I said goodbye. The host told me the next day that this man was crestfallen. He thought he had met someone new. And I was taken aback because a) I thought he was gay [he was fit, well dressed, and interested in my shoes], 2) I arrived with my husband, and 3) I did not think that our carrying on had those undertones.
The next time was worse. A long time friend of my husband and mine said something inappropriate to me. He said he wanted to father my child because he knew that I longed to be a mother. It was inappropriate on many levels and yet I didn’t check him when he said it because I was stunned. Later, that ended up developing into a situation that I don’t regret, but I do regret that it turned me into a liar and I deceived people I love. I believed for a long time in therapy that what made that comment welcome was the years of flirting that had said hey, look at me, I’m so happy and free spirited.
Then came the zinger. I was at a family reunion, an evening of lighting the menorah candles, when my nephew-in-law mistook my firtatiousness as exceptional. He thought it was aimed at him particularly instead of Rachel just being Rachel. This caused a rift in my family that continues to this day. A hurt that has generated scars upon scars that cannot now be removed unless there was major surgery.
A while back, a friend of mine said you need to learn how to flirt and I laughed out loud. Me, I was the consummate flirt. But I shut it down. That weekend I went to a dinner party with this command from her – turn on the FLIRT. So Operation Flirt was on and I noticed that as soon as it turned on, things happened, not with the one I intended to receive it but with every other person at the party! This past weekend, I was at a party and my massage therapist/friend said, “Girl, you got all that sexy, but I see how you hold it all back.” And I said, I quit flirting years ago because I got hurt, hurt others and I blame myself. She said, “Girl, you’re stuck, you need to let all that go. Forgive yourself.”
And forgive myself I have, but a friend recently told me she thinks I have forgiven myself for my marriage ending even though the love still lingers, painfully. But it’s the family incident that shut me down. And for that I need to work on opening myself back up. “Be bold,” she said to me. “You will know now when it is appropriate or not.”
Lesson learned.
So now, there will be no misunderstandings – if I am flirting with you, it’s because I mean it. You WILL know that I’m flirting, there will be no equivocation.
