Flirtation is better than sex.
I enjoy the dance. The thrill. The ‘heart pounding in chest’ feeling because someone you’re attracted to is near, far better than sex. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but there’s just something about the lead up to the act that is far more intoxicating.
It helps that flirtation is accessible to me. It uses up less energy than sex, and a well-placed look can make heat pool in my belly quicker than hands fumbling to find my clit. I can flirt on my phone, in a hospital bed, or over dinner. I’ve done the dance so many times, in so many different forms, and it never gets old.
Flirtation draws everything out. Sex is quick, over in the blink of an eye when you think about it, but flirtation can last days, weeks, months, and even years. Flirtation has different flavours, and types. A stranger will stoke the fires slower than a fuck buddy, and a fuck buddy slower than a partner. But, at the same time sometimes the flirtation of a fuck buddy is exactly what you need – as I said, flavours.
The best part is that everyone flirts differently – they have their own language. My favourite type of flirtation is when it hurts. When I get too caught up, and there’s a deep ache in my chest. Nowadays, it usually happens when I’m 10 hours deep into a smutty story, or when I’ve been texting my partner exactly what I’m going to do to him for days when he’s away, but I fondly remember hazy nights of teasing. Pain from flirtation is the type of pain that demands my complete attention, and who am I to deny pain? Pain is my entire world, and in a perverted way, pain is my Mistress. I submit myself to her day in and out – after all, it’s the only way we can coexist. But this pain, this ache, is one that I willingly submit myself to time, and time again. It’s one I encourage because it is delicious.