Harmless Flirting Quotes

When does anyone in the world utter those (Harmlessly flirting) words? When they're caught doing something wrong, right? Then how the fuck is it EVER considered harmless, if someone is ALWAYS going to be hurt by those words being said? There's NO harmless in harmless flirting and the sooner the world agrees with this, the sooner people will stop getting hurt by it being said all the bloody time!

Oh shit, I was just flirting with the waitress a little. It was harmless. I told her those jeans must be from outer space because her ass is out of this world.” “Oh my

Oh shit, I was just flirting with the waitress a little. It was harmless. I told her those jeans must be from outer space because her ass is out of this world.

Jim wasn’t an awful person, nor was he necessarily a bad employer, overall. He just hadn’t taken my complaints seriously until now. He fell under the long list of people who brushed “harmless” harassment accusations under the proverbial rug. “That’s just how he is” or “He was just flirting.” I wasn’t even angry, only disappointed.

I don’t want to spoil us with the color red," he thought. Sometimes, flirtation that led to nothing was everything. The coquetry remained harmless. If fortunately ceased, momentary sparks would not be damaged by a chair-throwing, divorce-filing, property- debating future. It was one of life’s little treats to meet someone amazing, have perfect chemistry, and walk away flattered and regretful, and best of all, forever remember a stranger who was so right and yet, by then, so far away. A perfect memory tastes sweeter than an exhausting series of normal ones. People could have each other without possession. Nothing needed to last forever when good memories lasted forever.

Here’s the deal: no touching, no hand-holding, no flirting, no sexy talk, no dancing, and absolutely no kissy face.” “You didn’t mention no sex, did you? I might have you on a technicality.” “You and me alone, eating, talking, maybe even having a good time. Yeah, it might be a date.” “I’ve seen what’s in your pantry, and I respect my arteries too much to indulge.” “That’s the thing about snakes—even if they’re harmless, they look like such badasses it doesn’t really matter.” “You’re lying. You’re really wearing a pair of granny panties.

At dinner parties other women's husbands and boyfriends hold my gaze a bit longer than all but the most lecherous American men would dare. I never find out whether these approaches might lead to something more, but they don't have to. Flirting with someone else's partner isn't a betrayal of your spouse or a gateway to extramarital sex. It's a harmless way to have fun.

But it’s harmless. Her own husband is right there after all. And Jonathan doesn’t seem the slightest bit upset over it. He probably knows that Suzette is a flirt and he’s learned to ignore it.

Johnny’s Café was crowded. Most of the customers were truck drivers starting their hauling day on the Durban-Pretoria route, big friendly men in sunglasses and bright-colored shirts. Too friendly, some of them—in the time it took to squeeze through to an empty booth, Renie received a proposal of marriage and several less honorable offers. She clenched her teeth, refusing to smile at even the most harmless and respectful of the flirts. If you encouraged them, it just got worse.

Ever so gradually over time our understanding of ourselves gets shaped by what we do and what we’ve done. We cling, we grasp, we hold tightly to these identities. And then we find ourselves without them. Sometimes because we chose to leave them behind, other times they’re taken away without our consent. I felt so exposed. So vulnerable. I remember my friend Chris telling me that people were asking him, What happened to Rob? As in Where’d he go? as in Is he doing anything? I remember feeling this low-level dread when he told me that. Like a cold shudder. One harmless comment from a friend, and my imagination ran wild with endless ruminations on how to set the record straight and let those people know that I was still in the game. That’s the thing about liminal space: You’re really tender. Raw. Susceptible to those old forces and fears. I didn’t have regret, I was flirting with something far more powerful: fear. Fear that it appeared like I didn’t have any idea what I was doing. Fear that it looked like I couldn’t hack it, so I left. Fear that people thought I was somebody, and then I’d thrown it away. And here’s the killer one: Fear that I appeared to be done.