Where Has All the Flirting Gone?

Sounds like that old song, Where Have All the Flowers Gone, doesn’t it? Well, it certainly does seem a long time passing, let me tell you. Is it my imagination, or does everyone have their eyes trained on their mobile devices?

Check it out the next time you’re in the elevator. Does anyone actually make eye contact anymore? What the heck happened to the art of flirtation? I remember (a long time ago in a land far, far away), flirty looks shot from girls to guys, girls to girls, guys to guys. Smoldering looks from guys to girls.

library-flirting

Now you’re lucky if people even know you’re in the elevator with them. And it’s not only elevators, folks. People walking down the street are reading, texting, or looking at videos on their phones. No chance of a flirty or smoldering look, no sirree Bob. Or Enrique. Or Angela.

elevator-flirting

Aside from the fact that people just don’t seem to pay attention to each other anymore, think of how dangerous it is to not pay attention to your surroundings? Muggings and worse, waiting to happen. Poised to happen. WILL happen!

It’s not only flirting that’s going by the wayside, either. Have you noticed people walking their dogs while talking on, or looking at, their phone? Pushing their baby in a stroller? On the phone. I saw a couple walking with their 10ish year old a few mornings ago. The dad and son were walking side by side, talking. The mom? About five feet behind texting on her phone.

I know that some of these interactions I see aren’t necessarily indicative of what that person does every time they are out and about. I know I sometimes stop and read a text, or text someone. Maybe there’s an emergency, you got something going on. Ohhhhh, maybe you’re arranging a date! I digress. I do think that this is becoming the norm, though, since I can’t remember the last time I saw someone walking their dog or child when they weren’t on the phone.

dog

I’m here to tell you, I miss flirting. I miss catching someone’s eyes and being able to tell, from the heat, or twinkle – or smolder – that he finds me attractive. That, just maybe, a connection could be made. I think people are missing out. They’re relying on their internet or mobile devices to flirt with people, when doing it in person is so much more fun. I miss those interactions with other people, even if it isn’t flirting. That smile, the comment on the weather. Or the current ball game being played.

flirting

I challenge you to ignore your mobile device when you’re out and about. If you’re single, I challenge you to toss a flirty look at someone you’re attracted to. I challenge moms and dads to leave their phones in their pockets and actually interact with their child in the stroller, or their dog on the leash. And I challenge people who are already paired – when you’re on a date, at dinner, a movie – wherever. Don’t be texting people when you could be reveling in the attention of the person you’re with. This single girl would love to have a bit of that attention!

Let the flirting commence!!

Romance, Hide! or Where to Bury the Body?

I can’t help it, when I think of a place, or an activity, my brain acts like a squirrel facing down a speeding semi on a two-lane highway – bouncing around from romance to where the heck can I hide?  Or, is that a good place to bury a body?

shovel

 

That’s a writer’s brain for you! We’re always conjuring scenarios in our heads. Show me a sandy beach, and I picture walking hand in hand and stealing kisses, or diving into the water and swimming for my life so that guy with a knife giving chase can’t get his hands – or that blade – on me. Hope to hell he can’t swim!

couple kissing beach swimming in ocean

 

 

 

 

Maybe on a hike through the trees near Mr. Hood, I hear rustling in the bushes. Two lovers making out, or am I prey being stalked by four- or two-legged predators ready to pounce?! Do I run? Climb a tree? Where’s a hollow log to crawl into when you need one?

Dark.Forest forest with girl

 

 

 

 

Anything and everything is a weapon to me. I was prowling a second-hand store recently and saw a hand-crafted pick. Couldn’t resist grabbing it as a prop for one of the weapons in my paranormal romance. Let the coroner have a field day trying to determine what gouged a hole in the corpse he’s examining.


handmade pick

I think having been raised by a WWII veteran who was, by turns, a flight engineer, MP and physics instructor in the Navy in the forties and fifties – not to mention he was the guy who set up all the Sikorsky training facilities for the Navy – has aided and abetted my writer brain. My earliest memory of his lessons on situational awareness and self-defense goes back to when I was five. I bet the lessons started when I was in the cradle!

 Karate Kick

 

 

 

So, you readers, writers and folk who don’t do either, what’s going through your mind when you’re driving, hiking, swimming, jogging – or kissing? Come on, share! This writer wants to know!

~ Gemma

Check out some of the interesting books below on some of the subjects above…

 

 

Originally published under my other writer alter-ego, Fiola Faelan, and updated for this post.

Portland or Bust….Behind the Scenes with Romance Author Gemma Blake

How about a ‘behind-the-scenes’ glimpse into Gemma’s trek to the Great Northwest? 

Twenty-two years has come and gone since I packed up the twenty-four foot U-haul and eleven year-old son for the trek to the Great Northwest. It had taken me much too long to realize how toxic Silicon Valley was for both of us, but was ascribing to the ‘better late than never’ theory of forward motion.

Once in a while you may get mired in doubts about making change – forge forward anyway!

 

When you have family members who make bad decisions, and you realize that by staying you’re enabling their decisions as well as becoming a victim to those decisions, the hard decision is the best – to say, “To hell with fishing, I’m cutting bait.”

It’s okay to remove yourself from bad situations – it’s not your responsibility to try to fix their issues, especially when they don’t want to have them fixed – only enabled.

The two years previous to the move was spent researching and traveling to find that perfect spot to settle down. For those of you young enough to only know “Googling”, research at that time consisted of frequent visits to the library, subscriptions to newspapers from far away cities, and interviewing people from those areas.

Origin of google: 1998; after mathematical term googol. I still go to the library, and googling something will never replace the experience of actually being there!

When I found a likely candidate, travel was booked. My son and I would land and pretend we lived there. I’d book a hotel in non-touristy areas and we would settle in for several days. I had a blast traveling with Cy!

Interesting places! Tucson, Austin, Corpus Christi, Seattle, Pendleton, Tempe, Phoenix, Paso Robles, Sacramento, Redmond, Spokane, Eugene and last but not least, Roseburg! Whew! Wait! And Portland!

Portland was one of those cities. It fit much of the criteria on my list of must-haves, and even my list of nice-to-haves. What clinched it was a board member of the company I was working at. He heard I was interested in moving and said he could offer me a job for three months.

Lists, gotta love lists: Air quality, lower crime stats, good schools, diversity okay but not the best, affordable to a single mom with no child-support, job for three months, mild weather, only a little rain. Wait! What? Okay, not sure how I missed that the rainy season is from October 29 ½ til July 5th, but oh well.

Having always had a fearless ‘I-can-do-anything streak’ I snatched up the job, made arrangements, packed the truck and put it in gear.

It was an interesting trip! Oh boy, was it interesting. On I5, at the top of the Siskyou’s, and smoke fills the cab of the twenty-four-foot truck. Miraculously, we were just approaching an off-ramp. If you’ve driven that freeway, you know just what a miracle that was. Stepped on the brakes.  Wait! STEPPED ON THE BRAKES. Oh shit! Put my foot to the floor on the brake pedal and the emergency brake. Truck rolled to a stop. Right at the top of the off-ramp. Whew!

This is where dad’s training came in handy – always have rations, something to protect yourself (he may have called them weapons), and blankets or coats or sleeping bags. Okay, I didn’t have the gun, but pretty much the rest.

 

 

We’re in the middle of nowhere! Picture this – it is BEFORE mobile or cell phones. I’m looking for change and a pay phone. You know, the kind that Superman used? Finally found one – another miracle – after tramping across a field to a campsite.

 

Unfortunately, Superman wasn’t using that particular phone booth at the time, so we were on our own.

 

 

U-haul arrived a few hours later, fixed the brakes – man, I pictured them failing after cresting the rise and screaming DOWN the mountain. Sweat beads on forehead.

Was I nervous driving the rest of the way? Hell yes!

I digress. We get on the road again, six hours later, spend the night in Grant’s Pass, and arrive in Milwaukie, Or-ee-gon mid-day the next day. I pull in front of the cute, nineteen-thirties house I’d rented, looked over at Cy, and said something like, “I didn’t quite think this far ahead. I’m not sure how we’re going to get the heavy pieces out of the truck.”

What? Something was missing from my list?

 

Yup, I’d moved over seven-hundred miles away where I knew NO ONE except the man I was going to work for, and I didn’t know him well enough to even let him know we’d arrived, much less ask for help unloading.

Another miracle arrived in the form of a neighbor and her fourteen-year-old, very tall and strong son. We were saved!

Sometimes neighbors can be amazing.


 

And the rest is history – twenty-two years of history! We of course have had our ups and downs – every roller coaster ride does –  but let me tell you – the moral of my story is:

Be fearless! Make your own destiny – even if you get slapped down along the way – get back up.

BE FEARLESS! It’s worth repeating….

~ Gemma

 

(originally posted as my alter-ego, Fiola Faelan)