There are lots of advantages to being a writer, you know. I’m pretty good at explaining things in terms a small child could understand. I’m unlikely to make an unfortunate typo when signing off in an email. (‘Fondle yours’? I think not.) A strongly-worded letter is never too big an ask, even when I’m stressed out.
Above and far greater than all of these things, however, one of my biggest boasts as a writer is that I flirt like a pro.
I’m approaching master status when it comes to textual stimulation. Shakespeare can eat his heart out. His comparisons to a summer day feel pretty tame when you glance over my enticing metaphors. Even if British summer weather does look uncomfortably close to 50 Shades of Grey.
Oh, come on now. Don’t side-eye disapprovingly at your screen like that. Are you telling me you’ve never sent anyone a mildly indiscreet message in your life? Never made a cheeky double entendre over some wine and vol-au-vents? Like hell you’ve never done that. Don’t play the innocent with me, lady.
We’re all uncomfortably guilty of getting a little carried away with our character limits. In the digital age, taking a few snaps of your decolletage has become far more dangerous. So naturally it’s logical to turn to words for some sneaky flirtation. You can always pretend it was a perfectly innocent turn of phrase. Any other inference is purely coincidental. What dirty minds some other people have.
Words hold a huge amount of power, and wielding them effectively is like waving a lacy bra in an unsuspecting amour’s face. As with your target’s dawning realisation that you’re not wearing the bra, the impact lies in what’s implied. The right phrase, at the right time, is undeniably evocative.
That saying about having more power in your little finger than some people have in their whole body needs to change. We should be talking about our thumbs. They’re the ones with all the magic.
