My Friendly Stalker.

Source: Pinterest

I may lose a few followers over this post but in the interests of candour and bearing my guilty conscience, it’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to make. Besides, I have such lovely followers I’m hoping they’ll humour me or judge me too harshly for my lack of moral fibre. (They may just think I’m being flippant, as I’m inclined to be). 🙂

I am single, something I don’t often mention in my posts as I’m a bit private – online at least. But since starting this blog and reading many blogs, I’ve realised that the ones I warm to most are those in which bloggers reveal things about themselves, sharing their lives and exposing their vulnerabilities.

We’re not all perfect “except for you and me and I’m a bit worried about you” (as someone once said), therefore it’s heartening to occasionally see each other’s weaknesses and vanities.

Back to me, myself and I. I am of an age which Oscar Wilde said was sure to elicit pity and certain defeat…or something equally crushing. (They were so ageist in the nineteenth century). Anyway, I’ve had two husbands (husband one I divorced and husband two I lost to cancer) and while I’m not knocking husbands in general, you get quite picky the more husbands you’ve had. I won’t deny it’s been difficult being widowed relatively young, but there’s no point in wallowing. Basically after two husbands, I’m in no hurry to acquire a third hubs. So, apart from the episode with my hot Italian lover, (fact or flippant?) I am alone.

Enough lead in, onto My-Friendly-Stalker. Everyone knows I have two dogs, one Kelpie and therefore hyperactive maniac, the other, Baby Blossom (hyperactive maniac puppy). In order to prevent said dogs from:  a) harassing me day and night and b) destroying the house and garden, I run every morning at the dog park. This works for us by giving me the illusion of health and fitness, and them the reality of fun.

Bad blurry pic…heading down bush track to dog-park.

I’m getting to the stalker bit. Lately at the dog-park I’ve encountered a sleaze man who flirts with me. I wouldn’t normally write about someone flirting, I’d just abandon myself to the experience. HOWEVER this man Lothario is not just married but married to a lovely dog-walking woman.

Trajectory of flirty events:

• Flirty comment 1: I’ve forgotten the details because I was running and puffing and obviously it’s very difficult to talk and run at the same time. Besides, Who is this man interrupting my important exercise schedule?
• Flirty comment 2: Impertinent Man: “Hi, you again!” (accompanying grin). Me: “Excuse me?” (accompanying giggle).
• Flirty comment 3 : Flirt: “Stop stalking me!” Me: thinking, “As if?” Pausing and digesting comment, scrutinising incorrigible flirt from beneath lashes – nondescript man…replying: “You’re stalking me!” 
• Flirty comment 4: Libertine: “You’re making a big habit of this.” Me: Stopping and regarding Don Juan man with some interest. His talent in flirtiness is so impressive it halts said exercise regime. Simpering grin.
• Flirty comment 5: After laziness and cooler weather caused momentarily running hiatus: Romeo: “Hi, where have you been? I’ve missed you!”                     Me: Swivelling mid-step (almost endangering ankle). This seriously flirty comment warranted careful consideration, as it has gone beyond what is reasonable on flirt spectrum. Flushed face due – if honest – to heat and pleasure combo. Examine flirt closely, noting that nondescript has grown into something like handsome (purely through skilful flirtiness). Me: “I’ve been very busy.” Experience epiphany as I recall in recesses of mind, nice wife. Despite epiphany, grin guiltily at gentleman evil flirt.
• Flirty comment 6 or 7: Rake on a Monday: “I’ve spent all weekend practising my jogging so I can keep up with you!” Me: Flirty giggling escapes wanton lips.
• Next encounter: After making a resolution to dump My-Friendly-Stalker by direct allusion to wifey: Me: “I saw your wife the other day!” Casanova: Nakedly flirty smirk.
• Recent encounter: Wolf: “I’ve been scouring the park looking for you.” Me: Big smirk twists my lips. Again. Vapid giggle. Again.
• Most recent flirty comment:  As I emerged from a grove of trees hanging over the running path, Philanderer: “That’s it, lurking in the bushes, waiting to ambush me! I’m getting an A.V.O. out on you!” Me: I won’t describe my exact words but suffice to say it involved a lot of high-pitched giggling.

Source: Pinterest

The art of flirting is an old one. A hang-over from bygone days before one night stands, hook-ups and sexting allowed everyone to indulge in a no-holes-barred kind of courtship. It’s all about the hint of attraction  – nothing stated or expected, yet everything implied. It’s a study in understatement, in the allure of temptation.

Very boring shot of dog-park.

Oscar Wilde said on flirting: “A woman will flirt with anybody in the world as long as other people are looking on.”  I realise I am obsessed with that man but he is gay and dead – so it’s a lost cause 😦

Oscar’s observations may have prevailed in London society in the late nineteenth century, but this is not the case in Sydney dog parks in the twenty first century, where unfettered flirting is taking place discreetly, as well in open spaces.

I have since dumped my friendly stalker twice, although he is oblivious it. I’ve varied my times and entered the park from a different spot to avoid him, encountering the wife and chatting amicably to her! Yet when I run into My-Friendly-Stalker he continues to flirt shamelessly, undaunted by references to wifey.

Very recent flirty comment: Man-whore:Flirt:“Hey, you’re playing mind games with me!”  Me: Vacuous giggling.

I tried and failed. Nothing inappropriate has occurred: No leering (under different circumstances, I’m not averse to a little leering), no impertinent questions or comments. No suggestions for coffee, drinks or detours onto the bush track (and there is a well-camouflaged bush track).

So, dear readers, what do you think? Should I surrender to these very innocent tete-a-tetes at the dog park, with impunity? Surely it’s a mild form of entertainment hurting no one (though I’m well aware of mind cheating). If I’m truly honest, I would not like my husband/partner/lover to engage in said flirting with anyone other than me.

Shall I find another dog park? Bear in mind this one is very convenient and time is a factor…must rush back to prepare for work. Of course, I can be rude or curt to My-friendly-stalker – avert my head, blank him, jog straight past him…

What do you say, condemn or condom condone?

Postscript: My second last foray to dog park involved light banter with Friendly-Stalker’s dog-walking bestie. Not prime flirting per se, but enjoyable banter (a slippery slope perhaps?) And yesterday’s visit to the dog-park involved a pleasant convo with a random dog-walker whose dog was a replica of my own. I’ve concluded that I am very promiscuous flirty by nature. Basically if it wears trousers and doesn’t have two heads (sorry to anyone out there with two heads but I must draw the line), I will morph into a femme fatale flirt. Unfortunately, as I alluded to in my last post about Blossom, ho-bagness does run in our family.

Heading to new gym equipment to work out now (dogs, not me).

BTW there’s a lot of wit going down at the dog park. Today a dog-walker compared his alpha male dog to Vladimir Putin. It reminded me of Ed’s recent post with Rocky Tones and Putin in the ring. I feel the dog-park is the new hook up rendezvous  – a previously untapped dating site source of diverting entertainment (and not just for the dogs).

WHERE’S WALLY? Can you see the dog-stalker?            Source: Pinterest.

So, a philosophical observation and to quote Alanis Morisset, Isn’t it ironic that the flirty encounters occur in the dog park, wearing parka and leggings rather than tarted  glammed up with heels and eye-liner in a night club?!

Addendum: Just back from the dog park with some hot gossip. While all dog-walkers agree, “Whatever goes down at the dog-park, stays at the dog-park”, I had to share this: A dog-walker, let’s call her Belinda (real name rhymes with this), just revealed a shocking case of flirting sexual harassment at the dog-park. Under normal circumstances, I’d never make light of this behaviour but flirting is one thing, molestation quite another. Apparently, a dog-walker, let’s call him Ranko (real name rhymes with this), grabbed Belinda around the waist and rubbed against her – laughing and making strange noises (which my sense of propriety prevents me from divulging).

I now realise I’ve had a lucky escape. For better or worse, no one has grabbed me at the dog-park, let alone the rest. But then I am running and they’d have to be very hot cleverly flirty to make me stop! 😉

Tell me, have you flirted lately? Please explain…

Joining Emily’s Monday Laugh Link up and adding my linky to Jess’s IBOT (if it’s not impertinent to link twice!) 🙂