When my wife and I first met, we spent a lot of time in a CrossFit gym together. I was usually wearing my seven-year-old Drexel basketball practice jersey. She used to tease me: “Hey, 12, what time’s the game?” A roast of my outfit, yes, but also a flirt as recognition: I know you struggle with accepting your sport is over; I do, too; let’s struggle together.
Now, nine years later, I am still, more often than not, wearing a jersey of some sort (yes, even the Drexel jersey, a true beacon of sustainability!). The other day, I was picking up dog poop in a rugby jersey and shorts. My wife came outside and called to me: “Hey hottie, what time’s the game tonight?” I stood from my crouch and smiled at her, tickled and thrilled. Her come-on was at once a callback to our early days and a commitment to a future us, even if that future was only “tonight.” It creates a time-bending loop in which we exist in multiple places, in love in each one.
A callback is a literary device in which a line, image, or detail returns later in a book, in a different context or changed. The author doesn’t note the repetition—that, of course, would defeat the purpose. Callbacks are a part of the greater “show, don’t tell” camp. They serve as thematic, emotional, and psychological echoes that reveal something essential about the character or characters. Callbacks remind us that time is circular, that things have a way of repeating themselves, despite our change and growth, despite where we go or who we meet. However, the reader only catches the callback if they are paying close attention. And when they do catch it? It’s so damn satisfying. It’s that “ahhhh” after taking a sip of a much-deserved fridge cigarette.
Relatedly, callbacks are also an essential part of the extended flirt, by which I mean that the flirting isn’t contained to one time and place, such as an encounter at a bar that begins and ends at said bar. However, if you exchange numbers and the flirtation continues, you have the chance to use callbacks to your advantage. Not to trick someone or win them over under false pretenses, no. But to enhance the flirtation, to make it even more fun, playful, and erotic. Flirting is an art, and let’s be real, when you find someone who can collaborate with you in this arena, well, there’s hardly anything like it. But this level of collaboration and flirting requires the participants to pay close attention to details, both what the other has shared and what the two (or more) share together. Maybe what I mean is, if you are going to flirt, you might as well commit to it, you might as well grant it the gravitas it deserves.
Often, an extended flirtation follows the arc of a well written novel. As the reader, I begin a novel knowing nothing, but during the set-up, I am a sponge; I learn essential information about character, setting, relationships, desires, obstacles, etc., knowing I am going to need that information as I move through the book. I firmly believe the best readers enter a novel with curiosity, an openness to experience. The best flirts enter a flirtation this way, too. Openness, as a reader and a flirt, lends itself to joyful surprise; if we don’t have preconceived ideas about the journey we are about to embark upon, we will be exhilarated by the unexpected, by learning new things we never knew we enjoyed. And what could be more life-giving, more life-affirming, than discovering new pleasures and delights?
On the flip side, the ideal qualities of a great novel opener include a balance of curiosity and clarity. Curiosity keeps the reader engaged; they turn the pages, in pursuit of learning more. Clarity provides context and enough information to ground the reader so they aren’t lost or frustrated. Memorable flirtation operates in much the same manner. We’ve all met someone who, in an effort to provoke curiosity and seem endlessly mysterious, gives absolutely nothing away about themself—in other words, there is no clarity. They don’t give you anything to work with. End of flirtation. Or you’ve got the person who gives it all away, too fast and too much, without slowing down to ask questions, to linger in the seduction of silence. Readers, I think, inherently understand this balance because we feel it when we read a book; we are seduced by the story, by the sizzle of potential.
The thing about a novel, at least a good one anyway, is that it has its own unique plot, characterization, setting, and internal logic. No two novels follow the same logic. What makes sense for one could never fully make sense for another. Each world of a book has rules, however loose or strange. There are ripples of consequences; the characters’ choices, however bizarre, still make sense for the story at hand. The best flirtations exist in much the same way; they possess a language all their own: invented words or phrases, jokes that are nonsensical to outsiders, callbacks that are meaningless without context, tender and erotic gestures that go otherwise unnoticed. There is something special and unparalleled about co-creating this type of world with others. And no matter how many flirtations you experience, each one is distinct if you both take the flirt seriously and give it your full attention—if you commit to the experience of bringing the erotic out in one another.
When we finish reading a book, we may think about it for quite some time after, or we may forget it altogether. We might recommend it to friends or need to find someone to process it with immediately (cue the popular TikTok sound: “I need to talk to a gay person! I need to talk to a gay person!). The same, of course, can be said for flirting. It might end in sex or romance, but also might not—it might fade away, it might end abruptly, or, it may go through seasons and cycles, returning in new and interesting ways. You may find yourself inside of a sequel or a trilogy. Who’s to say? But if you want to gift yourself the flirtation of a lifetime, start building your reading list immediately. You’ll thank me later.
