The difference is I enjoy flirting, but being hit on gives me the willies.
Wash: I mean, I'm the one she swore to love, honor and obey. Mal: Listen... She swore to obey? Wash: Well, no, not...
'War Stories'
Natter 43: I Love My Dead Gay Whale Crosspost.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Jessica - Apr 06, 2006 11:36:22 am PDT #9255 of 10001
And then Ortus came and said "It's Ortin' time" and they all Orted off into the sunset
§ ita § - Apr 06, 2006 11:38:25 am PDT #9256 of 10001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
being hit on gives me the willies.
Did it before your husband? I like it when the guy's attractive, and dislike it intensely when he's not.
Trudy Booth - Apr 06, 2006 11:38:59 am PDT #9257 of 10001
Greece's financial crisis threatens to take down all of Western civilization - a civilization they themselves founded. A rather tragic irony - which is something they also invented. - Jon Stewart
The difference is I enjoy flirting, but being hit on gives me the willies.
Even pre-marriage? Because the play/intent definition works if it wasn't.
Jessica - Apr 06, 2006 11:40:26 am PDT #9258 of 10001
And then Ortus came and said "It's Ortin' time" and they all Orted off into the sunset
Did it before your husband?
Yep. It's the difference between an "I WANT YOUR SEX" vibe and a "I think you're funny and pretty" vibe.
§ ita § - Apr 06, 2006 11:43:33 am PDT #9259 of 10001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
It's the difference between an "I WANT YOUR SEX" vibe and a "I think you're funny and pretty" vibe.
Ah. I draw a different line. I flirt with people it's fun to flirt with, but with whom I have no intent of sleeping with. They don't have to be pretty, and may not be that funny.
Being hit on means that I have the characteristics to sleep with or to be kissed or dated. Those might include pretty or funny. Depends on the hitter.
shrift - Apr 06, 2006 11:43:52 am PDT #9260 of 10001
"You can't put a price on the joy of not giving a shit." -Zenkitty
Well, now I have a George Michael earworm. Thanks a bunch.
tommyrot - Apr 06, 2006 11:49:21 am PDT #9261 of 10001
Sir, it's not an offence to let your cat eat your bacon. Okay? And we don't arrest cats, I'm very sorry.
George Michael: And I ask you, where was my butt? One full minute and not one shot of my butt! You saw it, I bloody wanted to kill the editor. It was shot of boot, then shot belt, bull fighter, hair, crowd, face, hat, bull, boot, hair. And I told them specifically that it was supposed to be butt shot, shot of the hair, back to the butt, hand, butt, hand, butt, hand, butt, belt, butt, beard, butt, belt, butt, earring, face, butt, butt, earring, hold on the butt, hold on the butt, it's a formula but it bloody works!
Kalshane - Apr 06, 2006 11:54:10 am PDT #9262 of 10001
GS: If you had to choose between kicking evil in the head or the behind, which would you choose, and why?
Minsc: I'm not sure I understand the question. I have two feet, do I not? You do not take a small plate when the feast of evil welcomes seconds.
Yep. It's the difference between an "I WANT YOUR SEX" vibe and a "I think you're funny and pretty" vibe.
This might be why I've never really seen a difference between the two, as I've never been in an "I want your sex" mode with anyone I wasn't already involved with.
shrift - Apr 06, 2006 11:56:20 am PDT #9263 of 10001
"You can't put a price on the joy of not giving a shit." -Zenkitty
Arrrrgh. Coworker requested some files yesterday, canceled the request today after I'd already prepared the files, then I said, "Offuckingcourse," and dumped the files.
And another coworker has submitted an urgent request for the files I already deleted, so now I get to prepare them again.
I need bacon to keep me from running over to our other facility and choking an incompetent bitch.
Liese S. - Apr 06, 2006 12:04:01 pm PDT #9264 of 10001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."
I'm a piner, definitely. My 7th & 8th grade years were full of Jordan Catalano levels of pine. I pined so much and so woefully that you could build soft but inexpensive cabinets out of me.
It was great fun. In a lot of ways, my unrequited romances were more satisfying than my actual ones, what with never having to get to know the guy enough to understand his flaws, and all.
But I was also completely clueless on the receiving end, so I never ended up going out with anyone who wasn't of the grab-kiss-what variant. Except the SO, with whom I was totally cavegirl hit-over-the-head-with-a-club to get him to go out with me.