Chat me up, Chat me down

It's been a while since I've griped about the singles scene, so I feel entitled to say that something has gone horribly wrong with flirting.

Yesterday, a solid citizen decided to ask me for my phone number. I said yes. He offered me his phone number. I took it. Then he asked me if I had plans for the evening. I said I did (at least I hadn't planned to go out with some guy I just met that afternoon). Then I said see you later or something like that.

That evening, he called. We chatted. He didn't ask me out. I didn't ask him out. And so it goes.

This shouldn't be a big deal, but it is a rare deal for me. The last time I had a bona fide request for a date without the use of the internet was before 9-11. The rareness of such encounters leads me to examine each one closely and exclaim "What the hell was I supposed to do?" And the universe replies with silence.

Flirting, that is real flirting that might actually lead to something, is dead to me. I was never much of a flirt to begin with. Now, the closest I get to flirting with single, decent men who are not sales clerks looking for repeat business or waiters bucking for a tip is a job interview-like exchange in which I get stared at state my marital status and a few useless taste demographics, then get stared at some more.

Some people have replaced flirting with a drop down menu in the sky that lists the qualities of their ideal mate. I'm no romantic. My dream would be to skip these preliminaries all together and just be with someone compatible. That ain't gonna happen, but this questionnaire mentality, this demographic pornographic does nothing for me. It's enough to make me miss the dorky double entendre of high school and the fumbling, drunken misadventures of college.

Also, I'm thinking I'm not asking any guys out again. If they want to go out with me, they can ask me. And if I am not available to go out one day, they can suggest an alternate day.