A Flirting Interlude: Aunt Edna Returns

Usually on Valentine’s Day I post a comprehensive list of extremely useful and meticulously researched Flirting Tips for Human People. You’ve probably heard of the series. It is widely acclaimed.

However, I’ve decided to go in a different direction this year—and this year only—by touching on what comes AFTER a fruitful flirt. As the great poet once said,

“First comes love / Then comes marriage.”

(That’s not the rhyming bit. Just so you know. I didn’t want you to think it was just like…a bad poem.)

You might have noticed the poet neglected to mention flirting, which you may think was a mere oversight, but not so. I suspect this poet was an agent of the State. Which State? Doesn’t matter. They’ve all got the same objective: MARRIAGE. MARRIAGE FOR EVERY CITIZEN. The agents want everyone matched up and paired off and hitched away because they love the Cha-Cha Slide and aside from a seventh-grade school dance the only place they can hear it is at a WEDDING.

And do you really think that a State agent whose favorite song is the Cha-Cha Slide knows anything about flirting? Of course not. They haven’t even made the connection between flirting and marriage. That’s why I’m here (but more on that subject next year). I lay the foundation of flirtation. Excavate the site. Dig footings. Install rebar. Mix the banter up with water in the banter mixer until it’s smooth and ready to pour. Let it harden for a good 48 hours. You’re familiar with the process.

But that’s where my job ends. After I clear out, a one-woman crew comes in to build the bridge from flirtation…to love…to marriage. (It’s one of those rare bridges that has a stop in the middle.) And the name of the woman who makes up that one-woman crew is AUNT EDNA.

I can personally attest to her skills. Ten years ago, after I got engaged, right around the time the shadowy agents of the State started leaving vaguely threatening bolts of tulle outside my door, it was Aunt Enda who showed up and sorted me out. She guided me down the aisle with grace and wisdom and a line of little colorful sweets like a witch in a fairy tale. And here I am, a decade later, fully hitched and slingin’ flirting tips to the next generation of human people. And the cycle continues.

So if you happen to find yourself this Valentine’s Day WAY past the sweetly temperate realm of flirtation and well along the shaky bridge to MARRIAGEVILLE, I invite you to bask in the comforting (if musty) presence of Aunt Edna.

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AUNT EDNA’S GUIDE TO WEDDINGS AND FALCONRY
(an excerpt)

When I first saw her, I thought she was a corpse. All slumped in a pile next to a massive steamer trunk just outside my apartment door. Exactly where I hadn’t left a corpse that morning.

Just as I got a good loud shriek worked up, the pile stirred, which cut the shriek off in my throat.

“Whooo are you?!” I shouted. I tried to assume a fighting stance, which for me meant jumping in the air and bicycling my legs.

“Whoa, whoa—whoa, girl! Hold it!” The bundle coughed raspily and lurched up to a seat.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” I cried.

She tipped back a dusty green felt hat and I saw her face. It had been six years since I’d seen her last, but she looked the same. Her pale blue eyes were red-rimmed and droopy with sleep, her frown little more than a puddle of wrinkles above her collar.

“Aunt Edna!” I nearly dropped to the ground with relief. “I thought you were dead!” (I realize now this was not a polite thing to say to an elderly woman.)

“Not yet!” she mumbled. “They haven’t got me yet.”

“How long have you been waiting here?” I asked.

“Oh, not long, dear, not long.”

“Well, what—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, it’s just—”

As she stretched her limbs, they popped with a sound like a thumb running over a comb’s teeth, and I took in how thin she was under her layers of clothing.

“Just passing through,” she said.

“Well,” I said dazedly, “come inside.”

Together, we shoved her steamer trunk just past the door frame, and I managed to close the door behind it. She gazed around with a critical eye.

“Can I take your coat?”

She handed me her hat and shrugged out of the oversized military coat she wore. Thick, curly hair, the sort of color they call dun, spilled off her head like scrambled eggs. Her eyes darted warily in their sunken sockets. While I made coffee, she prowled around the place, silently scrutinizing pictures on the wall and peering behind furniture and running her fingers across every book on the shelves. She perked up a bit, though, after I settled her down on the sofa and placed a mug of coffee directly into her hand.

“Tell me about your young man,” she mumbled as her face sank into the cup.

“Bill? Oh, well, we met at college, and—”

She waved her hand. “Not that. Tell me about him.”

“He works as a numisma…”

“Not his job.” She spat on the ground in frustration. “When was he born?”

“Um…” I laughed nervously. “He’s a Pisces if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh, he’s a Pisces, is he? Of course that’s not what I mean! Use your head, girl. What day of the week was he born?”

“I don’t…you know, Aunt Edna, off the top of my head, I’m not sure.”

She scoffed. “And this is the man you’re supposedly going to marry, hmm?”

“I’ll have to look it up,” I said. “But why do you ask?”

“The old rhyme,” she said. “You know it. Monday’s child, fair of face, Tuesday’s child full of grace…and so on. By the way, you’re a Monday child, so you oughta start acting like it and put on some sunscreen once in a while. Monday’s child freckle-faced, more like.”

I smiled stiffly.

“Thursday!” I announced after consulting my phone’s calendar. “He’s a Thursday child.”

“Thursday, hey?” She raised her chin imperiously. “Thursday’s child has far to go.”

“What day of the week were you born, Aunt Edna?”

She barked out a laugh. “Impertinent.”

“Oh, come on. Are you a Saturday child, curls and bows? Or a Sunday child…knobbly…toes?”

A slow smile parted the wrinkles on either side of her mouth like a curtain. “I’ll never tell.”

Probably she was born before days of week were invented and couldn’t tell me.

“Oh, fine,” I said. “At least tell me where you’ve been all this time.”

“All this time? When was the last time I visited? Was it this century? Yes, I think…it’s only been a few years, dear. I saw you before you went off to college.”

“That was six years ago, Aunt Edna.”

“Right. Hardly any time at all. This is good coffee, dear.” She seemed mildly surprised.

We sat sharing silence for a moment, until I worked up the nerve to say, “I hope this doesn’t seem rude—because I am very happy to see you, of course—but can you tell me again what you’re doing here?”

She smacked her lips and gave me a long stare. “I heard about your wedding, and I wanted to congratulate you.”

“Who…I mean, how did you hear about it?” As far as I knew, no one in my family had a reliable way to contact Aunt Edna. She showed up when she pleased, and between-times she made herself a mystery.

She chortled. “O-ho, thought you could keep it a secret from me, hey? Well, girl, you have to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool old Edna. I’ve had this visit marked on my calendar for years. Now—” She set her mug down so forcefully some coffee sloshed over the side. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

“Oh, that’s—”

“How much do you have planned already?”

I looked at her, trying to pick some words from the ether to string together into an answer. But I couldn’t. I opened my mouth, but instead of words, this squeaky wailing sound came out.

“Carrie?” she said.

The noise went on and on. I felt my cheeks with my fingertips, but my eyes were dry. If I wasn’t crying, I didn’t know what this outburst was. Hunger? Was it the sound of abject appetite?

“Oh—my girl…now, that’s not a good noise.”

She moved over to sit next to me. Pulling me into a crushing hug, she patted my hair and made small cooing noises. She smelled like pipe tobacco and tumbleweeds.

Once I quieted down, she said, “Now, tell me what’s going on, dear. Tell me true. Don’t try to placate me with pretty lies and excuses. Just lay it on me, no matter how shameful or embarrassing it is.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s nothing, really—” Aunt Edna raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s just that I feel so…so…”

“Skeered?”

I nodded. “Yes. I am scared. It’s just…it’s like…I mean, you know? Like, it’s forever. Forever-ever.”

She gave my elbow a stiff pat. “You’ll be alright, dear. Everyone gets nervous before they get married. I’d think you a simpleton if you weren’t frightened.” She pressed her lips into a pitying smile. “Why don’t you go take a nap, dear?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Don’t argue with me, girl,” she said. “And don’t worry about keeping me entertained. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.”

She steered me into the bedroom, guided me under the covers, and tucked me in. I closed my eyes. A faint breeze met my face.

“Aunt Edna,” I said, “what’re you doing?”

The breeze stopped for a moment. “It’s easier to sleep when you’re cool.” Then the breeze resumed. It smelled of coffee and moth balls.

She was right.

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There’s more. Much more. You haven’t even met the falcon yet.

But all that will have to wait. I tell the whole story in a little-lauded Wedding Book that’s been forthcoming for a decade now. It’ll probably still be forthcoming in another decade, so in the meantime we’ll get back to what we human people do best:

A GREAT AND TERRIBLE FLIRT.

See you next Valentine’s Day.

And Yet More Flirting Tips for Human People

Here at EARTH, the flirting never stops! Human people are always on the lookout for a cute li’l snack to flirt at until they can take the time to devour them properly.

BUT HOW DO THEY KEEP THIS UP FOR THE TWENTY-FOUR LONG HOURS OF A STANDARD EARTH DAY?

Well, after years of observation we finally have the answers. Read on to find out.

To do a flirt

1. It all starts with limbering up. Human people have lots of fun sayings like, “A healthy body leads to a healthy mind!” and similar illogical statements. By the substitution property of proverbs, we can understand that a flirty body leads to a flirty mind, and a flirty mind is always prepared to seize any opportunity for a good ogle.

2. Identify a flirtee. Each human person is equipped with two large orbs in the front of their head to constantly scan for potential mates. Not sure what to look for? Try this list of Attractive Human Qualities:

   1. Strong, square jaw

   2. Long, shiny hair

   3. Lustrous beard

   4. Small waist and round, child-bearing hips

   5. Broad shoulders

   6. Large, red lips

   7. Low-pitched voice

   8. Small feet

   9. Full breasts

   10. Ample chest hair

   Have you found this person? Great!

3. Bring a gift. In the illustration above, you can see that one suitor has brought his flirtee a large egg, which human people consider the most valuable object on their small planet. Notice the frustrated expressions on the other suitors’ faces: they know their offerings cannot compare. A potted plant? A floppy hat and infinity scarf that are pre-worn? Some kind of cheugy sign to hang in her foyer? Come on. The ram did not even bring a gift. He knows he has no chance at a successful flirt.

4. Prepare a dance. Many Earth species dance to attract a mate, and it appears the human is no different. Start by gathering up all your dangly bits—limbs and hair and whatnot—and flinging them about in different directions. Try a jump. An elaborate twirl. Shake. (We’re not certain yet exactly what to shake, as directives differ, so it’s best to play it safe and shake everything.) Do a flip.

   1. Tip: Don’t forget music. Our research has shown this to be an important part of the ritual, as dancing in silence is seen by human people as an unsettling deterrent to further flirts.

5. Once you have succeeded in the above tasks, set out a fancy table with starched white linens and taper candles. This lets the flirtee know you are ready for consume-ation. But that doesn’t mean you can resort to churlish behavior! Allow the flirtee to dictate for themselves in what manner they will be prepared for the meal. Baked? Grilled? Wrapped in banana leaves and roasted in a pit? Remain perfectly polite to the end and you will find you are left with no bitter aftertaste in the morning.

“Truly,” you will tell your friends when you are fully sated, “they were indeed more than a snack. They were in fact an entire meal.”

Happy Valentine’s Day, fellow human people, and godspeed on your flirts!

Flirting Tips for Human People, Vol. IV

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all—as we remember with gratitude that long-ago day when St. Valentine chopped down a cherry tree to drive all the snakes out of our hearts. What could say “ROMANCE” louder than that? A bullhorn? Don’t be cute. That was a rhetorical question and you know it.

Anyway.

Over the past few years, we’ve covered lots of flirting tips for all the normal human people out there. What we haven’t talked about (because it’s frankly kind of a bummer) is what to do when you find yourself in the awkward position of having to rebuff unwanted romantic gestures.

Fortunately, I have a wealth of experience in this area. Not in being rebuffed, because in my mind only a psychopath would risk the sort of vulnerability that leads to the possibility of rejection, but I do know a bit about rebuffing. In fact, you might call me the Rebuff Kid. It’s not a great name, but we’re just spitballing here.

I’m not proud of my role as the Rebuff Kid.

Just that other people’s crushes have always seemed a sort of imposition. They’re so much pressure. Someone would offer me their fragile little paper heart and I’d just stand there stammering like, YOU DARE TO—WHO GAVE YOU THE RI—THE AUDACITY—! and I’d nervously tear their heart to shreds and place each piece inside my mouth and gum it around until it formed a soggy mass and then I’d swallow it in one disgusting gulp.

Really what I meant as I stared at them in horror was, YOU WHAT?! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? HOW CAN I TRUST YOUR JUDGMENT IF YOU’RE THE TYPE OF MANIAC TO PICK ME AS YOUR VALENTINE? ARE YOU…I MEAN, ARE YOU LIKE A LITTLE BIT STUPID OR SOMETHING?

I know. It’s dumb. Think of all the candy I could have eaten if I’d only been a little more mature. But the whole thing just felt so grotesque. The other kids in school were always watching, waiting to POUNCE and MAKE A HUGE DEAL out of any tiny show of sentimentality. I felt constantly hunted. And as a result, I turned into a beast.

In order to protect myself and those around me (but mostly, let’s be honest, myself), I decided to BOYCOTT VALENTINE’S DAY. Every February 14th I wore all black and scoffed derisively at couples being mushy and was generally a bit of a teenage ass.

Except that wasn’t the whole story. Since we were little, my mom has always made a big to-do of the holiday, decorating the table with hearts and flowers before school, leaving us notes on pink construction-paper hearts along with a bundle of Hershey’s kisses. I’m not sure how I managed the cognitive dissonance of scowling at anyone who dared mention love while surreptitiously sneaking chocolate kisses between classes. It took a confrontation from an exasperated boyfriend to finally convince me that I…was being…a fool.

There’s nothing wrong with telling someone about your feelings. In fact, it’s unspeakably brave. And it deserves a more measured response than backing slowly away as if they are a dinosaur that can sense movement so the only way to escape the situation is to inch your way silently, sweatily past until you can break into a sprint.

So let’s get into it. (Finally.)

REJECTION TIPS FOR HUMAN PEOPLE
WHO DON’T CARE FOR OTHER HUMAN PEOPLE
DOING THEM A FLIRT

1. We’ve already touched on the first step: Remember how much courage it took to put themselves out there. To approach you and reveal their most secret, most tender feelings for you. The apple of their eye. The knees of their bees. Their sweet little cabbage of love.

2. Now you feel terrible, don’t you? Like your insides have melted and slithered down to puddle in your socks, leaving you a cold, empty, heartless husk. Well, GOOD. YOU DESERVE IT.

3. I’m mostly kidding. Nobody deserves that. It’s just an unfortunate situation all around. You can’t manufacture feelings just to avoid hurting someone else.

4. OR CAN YOU? Why not take a little trip down to the Feelings Factory and watch through a large window as their state-of-the-art facility assembles customized feelings for you WHILE YOU WAIT? You’ll be experiencing romantic reciprocity in no time—FINALLY! A SOLUTION FOR PERMANENT REQUITED LOVE! THANKS, FEELINGS FACTORY!

5. Except you can’t do that. The Feelings Factory is a made-up place. Like Neverland. And Nebraska. However, you can still follow fiction’s lead and employ a TROPE. Like the old Pretend-You-Have-Feelings-For-Them-Too-Until-It-Goes-Too-Far-and-You-Have-to-Break-Up-Thus-Hurting-Them-More-Than-If-You’d-Just-Been-Truthful-In-the-First-Place trope—a classic! Or the old Fake-Your-Own-Death trope. What could go wrong?

6. Hire a bodyguard to keep all would-be suitors at bay. You never have to be responsible for hurting anyone’s feelings if you never give them the chance to tell you how they feel, right? That’s a mature way to handle your issues, right?

7. Right??

8. In a similar vein, you could try wearing a disguise and talking loudly about how terrible and gross you are until all their feelings for you have dried up like a grimy old sponge. This approach has a relatively low success rate, but it’s worth a try. Plus it’s always fun to wear a disguise.

9. Pretend you’re a ghost. Get your friends to play along. Practice your spooky ghost noises. Convince them it would never work out between you because you are a spirit and they are still bound to this mortal coil. Is this gaslighting? YES. TECHNICALLY. But does it also add a sense of wistful mystery to their lives? MAYBE. I HAVEN’T ACTUALLY TRIED THIS APPROACH SO IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY. PLEASE REPORT BACK WITH YOUR FINDINGS IF YOU CHOOSE THIS TECHNIQUE.

10. As a last resort, try being honest and straightforward with them. If you truly don’t like them, say, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THIS HONOR BUT I MUST DECLINE. If you like them but don’t know how to say it, don’t say anything, just GIVE ‘EM A SMOOCH. And if you find yourself panicking, try something like, EXCUSE ME BUT YOU HAVE DONE ME A FRIGHT. PLEASE WAIT WHILE I RUN AROUND FOR TEN MINUTES, AT WHICH POINT I WILL RETURN WITH LESS ADRENALINE AND MORE COMPOSURE TO ADDRESS THE MATTER AT HAND—FOR NOW, I MUST BID YOU ADIEU! Make sure you wear sneakers on V-Day for just this situation.

11. Whatever you do, make sure to be kind. Let them down gently. You might want to give them some flowers and chocolate in return, to soften the blow. Hire a string quartet to nurse them through their heartbreak. Buy them a teddy bear. Give them your car. Give them anything—anything to take away the crestfallen look on their face—good God, make it stop! What kind of world is this?!

And if you find yourself rejected this Valentine’s Day, please know I wish I could gather you up in a big hug and give you a squeeze. You are brave. You are thoughtful. But most importantly, remember that plenty of people love you just because you’re you.

Now have another Hershey’s kiss, my sweet little cabbage.

Even More Flirting Tips for Human People

That’s right, my bebes. It’s that time again. The most romantic time of the year. And if you’re in need of some flirting tips, as always, you’ve come to the right place. Maybe you have your eye on a special someone, but you haven’t told them yet? Well, with Valentine’s Day just a few days away, I’ve got the perfect way for you to confess your feelings.

Let’s get flirty.

1. Fill their home with oranges so that when they open the door they’ll all come rolling out. Then you pop out with a sign that says, “ORANGE you going to go out with me?” Bonus: So much vitamin C! No one’s gettin’ scurvy this year, boys!

2. Wear an interesting hat to reel them into conversation. Once you have them hooked, take off the hat to reveal “Wanna get dinner sometime?” shaved into your head.

3. Start a podcast called “Who’s My Crush?” Persuade enough listeners to leave reviews on iTunes so that the person you like will be sure to stumble across it. On each episode, have guests go through a local phone book and ask you, “Is it Miriam Abrams? Is it Jason Abromovich?” and so on. You could reveal who it is at the end of the first season, but if you have a fair number of downloads, why not stretch it to two?

4. Sit next to them with a big basket of dates. Not a cut-up calendar, Amelia Bedelia—just a plain, old Phoenix dactylifera off a common date palm tree of the family Arecaceae, grown in many tropical regions of the world. When they ask you what you have there, say, “Just some dates. Want one?” Then on your date, you can impress them with your extensive knowledge of sweet tropical fruits.

5. Just, like, have your friend tell them for you. This never backfires. People love to be wooed through a middleman. I mean, putting them on the spot and forcing them to be vulnerable in front of someone who’s not at all involved in the situation? Who wouldn’t love that?!

6. Catch them a large fish. Tell them you want to ask them out, but you’re floundering.

7. We all know that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. So all you have to do is make a small incision near their belly button, insert a laparoscope up past the abdominal organs and through the chest to the heart, and BOOM! You’re in.

8. Okay. Stay with me on this one. First, you apply to work at an insurance company. Wow them at the interview. Get a job in the claims department. Make friends at the office. Go out for karaoke with Beverly and The Girls from Accounting. Carpool with Doug-Who-Lives-Two-Streets-Over-From-You. Ace your quarterly performance review. Accidentally reply-all on an email from your boss. Gossip with Erica from HR about Beverly’s divorce. Celebrate your birthday with sheet cake in the break room. Force a laugh every time Doug says, “Hump day, huh, buddy?” Then, steal your special someone’s car and dump it in a lake. When they call to report the incident to their insurance company, who will be on the case but YOU, their helpful, attractive, and conveniently single claims representative!

9. Have you considered telling them with your words? From your mouth?

10. Just kidding. That’s ridiculous. YOU SHOULD GET A BOUNCE HOUSE INSTEAD, WITH A SIGN THAT SAYS, “JUMP ON INTO MY HEART!”

More Flirting Tips for Human People

What’s that? You want to kick things up a notch in the romance department for Valentine’s Day? You want to make this year a little fiery so as to melt the very heart of your quelqu’un de spécial? I see. Do not worry your little heads, mes petits choux. I know just what you need.

Might I suggest…FONDUE?

Picture this: A flame bursts to life in front of you. A server places a pot atop it and drizzles oil inside, which sizzles and kicks when it hits the hot metal. Over this he pours a broth that heats up slowly as you watch. And you wanna know what else is heating up?

Small bits of beef. Happy little shrimps. Dry-rub pork. Chunks of herbed chicken breast. And that’s just the entrees. Try this on for size, love birds: baby carrots, button mushrooms, and chopped asparagus bob merrily in the savory broth that only becomes more toothsome the more you add to it. You don’t even notice what you’re putting in there; you’re so arrested by that soft look in your date’s eyes. You might have tossed your shoe in there—how would you know? The mere presence of your sweet babboo is so intoxicating you’re liable to throw your own head into the pot.

After a moment, you both dip your long stabbing forks into the pot to fish around for the stewed morsels. Your hands touch. Sparks fly. And not just because your sleeve got a little too close to the flame.

"What else do you think we could fondue?” your date asks.

“Bread,” you say. “Apples. Very small rocks.”

“Cider!” they suggest.

“Gravy.”

“Cherries.”

“Mud.”

“Churches.”

“Lead.”

“A duck!” your server says as he sweeps past your table.

You both gasp. He’s right.

Just when you start to feel as though you might enjoy a little variety, the server returns with mounds of cheese in yet another pot. He pours some wine in there as well to give it a little punch. You take your date’s hand across the table.

“Please be careful,” your server says. “The flame is very hot here.”

You waggle your eyebrows seductively. “Oh, yes. We know.”

The cheese sends your taste buds into raptures of gooiest delight. You dip in small hunks of bread and pull out a three-foot-long trail of Gruyère. It’s like eating taffy with a toothpick. In fact, it’s so messy that your date gets a long cheese thread stuck on the corner of their mouth. You smile and reach across the table to wipe it away with your thumb.

Except now it’s stuck to your thumb, and they’re still watching you. What are you supposed to do with this stringy bit of cheese? Should you eat it? Is it gross to eat something that was on someone else’s face? Should you flick it across the room, all devil-may-care? What if it lands in that lady’s bouffant over there? Should you keep it or throw it away? You don’t want to offend your date, but you also don’t want them to think you’re too into their face cheese, like you’re going to make a shrine out of it or something. You laugh it off and wave your thumb around gaily. “This is going in my scrapbook!” you say. You regret this instantly.

“More wine?” you say.

The server returns. Were you aware that the chocolate fondue here is endless?

“Just like my love for you,” you tell your date. The server clears his throat to remind you that he’s still standing right there, but it’s cool. He gets it. You tell him you were not aware of the endless chocolate, but you will absolutely take him up on that offer.

“This place is about to lose a lot of money,” your date says with a wink.

“Are we going to rob them?” you say, before realizing that they meant they plan to eat so much chocolate that the profit margins will be too narrow to be economically viable. You’re embarrassed by your mistake, but they don’t make fun of you. That’s how you know…this is meant to last.

When the fondue arrives, you take turn feeding each other. It’s decadent. Sensual. A little clumsy, but overall an indulgent, romantic treat. You tease them by holding a strawberry out for them to bite, then pulling it away playfully before they can reach it. They laugh. You laugh. They grasp your hand firmly and hold the fork steady as they take a bite. No more messing around. They pick up the pot of molten chocolate and begin to drink from it. They raise a hand to get your server’s attention.

“Might as well bring a few more of these out at once,” they say. “We’re gonna go through ‘em pretty quick. And no need to bother with the pound cake squares and marshmallows. They’ll only slow me down.” They weren’t kidding about bankrupting this place. You have never loved someone so much.

After the fourth pot, you notice they have chocolate on their chin—but you’re not about to fall for that again. You ignore it. Or, you try to, anyway. Unsuccessfully. The more you look at it, the more it starts to look like an off-center soul patch. What kind of haphazard razor work would result in that? you wonder. Just when you think you can’t take it any longer and you’ll have to tell them, they pick up a napkin and wipe the chocolate away. You sigh in relief, but realize that you haven’t been listening to anything they’ve been saying for the past five minutes.

“More wine?” you say.

When the meal is over, your date leans across the table. “What should we fon-do now?” they ask. You laugh. They laugh. Your server laughs. L’amour est dans l’air.

You order three more pots of chocolate to go and take off into the starry night—which is where I leave you, dear ones. Good luck with these extra special flirting tips, and I wish you all a very sweet Valentine’s Day, amoureux.