I have this really bad habit of striking up conversations with strangers. It’s usually when I’m in line at a gas station or grocery store, or stuck in a waiting room. I just can’t not talk, especially if something weird or crazy happens. Like when this woman called the gas station clerk a dirty thief for having the nerve to charge her tax for her purchase. She stormed out like a maniac (and tried to slam the door but it was windy out, so it just kinda swung back into place) and my first instinct was to turn to the woman behind me and say, “What the hell was that?” We ended up talking about how some people are plain nuts and were fast friends by the time the line moved up.

But sometimes it doesn’t end there. When I chat with women, it’s cool, but men? I swear, they must be wired to think that every woman who talks to them is flirting.

I’m not a flirt. I don’t ask personal questions, or lick my lips, or say sassy things. I’m just really friendly. And yet I’m obviously throwing off some kind of signals that I certainly don’t intend to send (and that I’m sure my boyfriend won’t appreciate!)

Okay, so tell me what I’m doing wrong. This is pretty much the transcript of my last encounter—please help me understand what I did to imply that I was looking for some lovin’:

I was standing in line at Tim Horton’s, there were a few people in front of me, and the lady up at the counter drops this girl’s donut on the floor. She then picks it up with her bare hands, holds it up to the customer and says, “Do you still want it or should I get you another one?”

Naturally, I laugh under my breath. I mean, come on, who would ever say, “No, I’ll take the dirty floor one!”

The man in front of me turns and we exchange an eye roll. He’s in fifties (at least). And he doesn’t look like a dirty old man in flashy clothes and slicked back hair and a pinkie ring. He’s plain-looking, in jeans and a flannel shirt. He says something like, “I wonder how many times that happens when the customer didn’t see it fall and they still give it to you.”

I said, “Well, I worked in food service when I was a teenager, and believe me, it happens a lot. My boss at the restaurant I cooked at was a big believer of the 5-second rule.” (Note—I am not standing close to him, or looking deeply into his eyes. Oh, and I’m wearing a baggy sweatshirt, track pants, with my hair up in a ratty ponytail. I do not look like a femme fatale)

The line moves up, he orders a coffee and instead of leaving, waits for me to order too. I get my drink, say bye and head for the door. He follows me to the door, and outside, he says, “So do you live around here? Want to have dinner some time?”

So…what did I do wrong? In my books, when my heroines are flirting, it is obvious. During this encounter, me and this old guy exchanged two sentences and one laugh (and not a sexy, come-hither laugh), and from that, he discerned that I would be interested in having dinner with him.

Is this just a man thing—like, oh, she talked to me, must mean she’s interested. Or am I somehow flirting without knowing?

Oh, and out of curiosity, how exactly does one flirt? I’ve never been overly coy or played weird man/woman dating games, so I really have no idea what’s involved. Is there a lot of winking and lip-licking involved? Double oh—tell me your worst flirting story, whether it’s you flirting, or being flirted with. I need some new material to draw from!

Elle

The other day a friend and I were talking about our recent celebrity crushes. I admitted to still lusting over Josh Holloway (Sawyer from LOST). Then it’s her turn, and she says, “At the moment, I’m into Andy Samberg and Seth Rogen.” She then said she would totally hop into bed with either of them if they so much as said hi.

Now, nothing against Andy or Seth, but….well, neither of them is an Adonis or anything. Which is fine. I think they’re both ridiculously funny, and I agree with my friend—something about them is kinda sexy. I’ve always liked funny guys. In fact, if a man isn’t funny, I probably wouldn’t date him. Those super-serious ones turn me off, and since I’m sarcastic (and oh so witty) I definitely need a man who gets my sense of humor.

Still, the conversation got me thinking about why women want the men they want. I know far too many people who don’t give two hoots what a guy is like, as long as he’s attractive. Some don’t even seem to care if he’s a jerk to them, as long as they can flip open their cellphones and show pictures of their hotties to whoever pretends to care.

Last year, I was in line at the grocery store and eavesdropping (sue me! I eavesdrop when I’m bored!) on two girls in front of me, who were flipping through a gossip magazine. The magazine mentioned these two couples:

Yes, we’ve got two gorgeous women dating two nice-looking, but no Brad Pitt, men. And these girls are going on about how Evangeline and Heather could do sooooooo much better and wondering what’s wrong with them.

I wanted to point out that, hey, maybe what’s wrong is that they’re not superficial and have found men who are more than just a walking Calvin Klein ad. And maybe THEY find these men attractive. Attraction is subjective. And hasn’t anyone ever seen Beauty and the Beast? It’s what’s beneath the exterior that matters, or at least that’s what I think.

Then again, would anyone buy a Blaze with David Spade or Dominic Monaghan on the cover? It makes me sad to realize that no, not a lot of people probably would. But I would!

So, my question is, and be honest, what do you care more about in a man—looks or personality? Any current celebrity crushes who aren’t on People’s Sexiest Man Alive list? And would you ever like to see a non-Fabio type on a romance cover or do you think only the sexy ones will sell books?

Elle