Flirt-Power!

As a young girl of hormonal-age I was surprisingly not boy crazy. I was so "not-boy-crazy" that my Father, of all people, would often throw his hands in the air and cry "I sure hope you get interested in boys soon!" I'd often get thrown by this comment. Was I supposed to be interested in boys already? What was there to be interested in? What was the whole boy draw? As far as I could tell they spent most of their time jumping off things and blowing stuff up. I was so worried that I wasn't into boys that for awhile I thought I may in fact be a complete and total lesbian.

Interestingly enough, my girlfriends did the same things my boyfriends did - meaning they all jumped off things and blew stuff up - I'm not sure if that means I'm naturally attracted to pyromaniacs or that my significant others were naturally attracted to girls who had a morbid sense of entertainment.

Now, however, at the age where I should have a handle on my hormones I am decidedly boy-crazy. Not just boys, but men, older, younger, tall, short, dark hair, light hair...if it moves...I'm interested.

I'm not sure where this came from. I'd like to think I found myself. Tapped into that inner female-ness that makes men want to crawl through the mud. To get to me - of course. I'd like to think that my self-confidence has allowed me to open up, be brazen and guilt-free about my attraction. Through my growth as an individual I have accepted all facets of my personality, both intellectually and physically. I am woman, I am sexual, hear me roar!!!

I'd like to say all these things - but I'm probably just a narcissistic flirt.

Not that I'm going to apologize. Because it's fun. And honestly I've gone too many years being quiet and shy and reserved. Unsexual and undemanding. If I think you have a cute butt...I'm inclined to make my preference known. Probably by pinching it.

Deal with it.

This is all by way of an announcement to the participants of the Spring Micro-Brew Festival this Saturday. To the men with the Honey Beer who thought I was a stripper, to the boys selling t-shirts who were overly interested in the pockets of my jeans, to the guy who thought I should be buying an xtra-small pair of panties (yes, that's what I said!) rather than small, and most importantly to the pirate who liked my smile and had a very nice...dagger:

It wasn't the beer, it was all for you. You go ahead and keep looking at my boobs boys, I'll keep looking at you!