Now that we have determined in this thread that a friendly/flirty conversation is indeed not harassment, women are just people too, the old gender roles are dead and public parks are a singles hunting ground, how do I make it clear I’m open to being approached?
Since chatting someone up is out of the question for me, I’d rather hedge my bets on some women using those tricks all you Casanovas left in that thread on me. We’re all progressive here, I don’t see why the man must start this dance.
But I can’t help but notice that this plan has not worked at all yet. How do I express I’m single and ready to mingle, except by just having that printed on my shirt? Like was said, having just a friendly conversation with any gender would be a start, can’t remember those happening in a while either.
Have you tried falling off a ladder. Anyone who doesnt run to offer assistance is not someone you wanna prone bone anyway. Time your ladder fall as the hottie approaches.
not someone you wanna prone bone anyway
I actually laughed out loud at the specificity here. Thank you for this, you’ve brightened my day.
Use “social props.” I’m not sure if that’s a real term, but like the colored-hair guy said, it’s about creating an easy conversation starter and giving people “permission” to approach you. An interesting hat, reading a book where people can see the cover / title, a pet or a friend’s pet, doing a hobby like painting (you don’t have to be good at it), comic books, musical instrument, D&D manual, playing dominos…whatever! If someone wants to chat, just give them a small natural conversation starter and frequently look up from it, take breaks, smile; so they know it’s ok to interrupt you. If someone shows interest by a prolonged or repeated glance, just smile and say, “Hey are you into ‘whatever’ too?”
Until very recently, I had neon colored hair. Pink, blue, green, orange, purple, red; the whole rainbow. Changed it once every few months.
Women very frequently came up to me to compliment my hair and often would lead to conversations about where I got my dye, who did it, etc. like women stopping their cars in parking lots just to give me a compliment. More often than not it turned into a short convo, that usually ended around the time I mentioned my wife was the artist who did my hair.
Had I known this was a thing before I was married, I would have died my hair in a heartbeat.
I think it may have been a little disarming and was something unique enough that it was worth striking up a convo.
Damn, if only I had hair.
