Was I Just Flirted With at Lidl? The Lost Art of Flirting

What do you think: was it just my imagination, or was it real?

A while back I wrote a post about dating these days, about how you're basically stuck with dating apps because people seem to have, for whatever reason, unlearned how to approach each other in the wild. It got some interesting responses, but one in particular stood out to me, and that was Guillaume's. He wrote: "I think now people lost the capacity to engage, communicate and to flirt."

I thought: Well, I'll be. I'd completely forgotten about that, but he's right. Once upon a time there was this thing called flirting. And suddenly I remembered a little incident at the supermarket a few months ago that completely threw me for a loop. I was genuinely disoriented walking home afterward.

You know how one of the reasons I picked this particular house in Sicily was that it's close to a Lidl? At the time, Lidl was my favorite supermarket in Italy. (These days I like to alternate with Eurospin, but I digress.) So there I was, grocery shopping at my Lidl. Unlike my regular supermarket back in Amsterdam, the staff at my Lidl in Sicily doesn't turn over much. So after a while, faces start to become familiar. And – I don't know what it is – but people tend to size each other up for attractiveness, instinctively, without even meaning to. (At least, I don't know if that sounds familiar to you?) Either way, it's something I catch myself doing now and then.

Anyway, I get to the checkout, and who happens to be standing there but the Lidl guy I find the most attractive. Yes, standing, because these are self-checkouts. In the Netherlands you can only pay by card at self-checkouts, but in Italy it's different. You can also pay cash at a central register, where you bring your receipt after you've scanned your groceries.

So off I go with my receipt to the central register – and the attractive employee. He tells me the total, I hand him a fifty, and… here it comes, completely out of the blue: he gives me my change, lightly brushes my hand as he does, and practically purrs into my ear: "Buona giornata, signora." I kept my cool. As if nothing had happened, I answered on autopilot: "You too, have a nice day, goodbye." I walked calmly out of the store, head held high, very deliberately not looking back, and once I was outside I thought: What was that??

I was completely thrown.

All the more so because, as I quickly realized, it was a textbook case of plausible deniability. Technically, all he said was "Have a nice day, ma'am." But then there was that subtle brush of the hand and that sultry whisper in my ear. Except… those are things that are very much open to personal experience and interpretation. It may have been intentional on his part, but it could just as easily be denied. He could always say: "No, no, I just gave you your change and wished you a nice day."

Now I'm almost making it sound like I want to make a federal case out of it, but that's not it at all. I was pretty flustered, sure, but in a good way. My first thought was: Maybe it's time for a haircut. And I could paint my nails again. And maybe I should put some self-tanner on my legs. That kind of thing…

I still run into that particular Lidl guy at the self-checkout sometimes. No more subtle hand-brushes, no more soft whispers in my ear. So maybe it really was all in my head, just my imagination?

I don't know. And maybe it doesn't matter. Because plausible deniability is, of course, the very essence of flirting. Flirting works because it's ambiguous. Dating apps are straightforward, and that makes them, frankly, deadly dull. No app match ever sent you home with your head full of question marks and plans for a haircut.

I think Guillaume is right: people lost the capacity to engage, communicate and to flirt. But luckily not everyone. At my Lidl, at least, it seems to be alive and well.

And what if he was just doing his job and it was all my imagination? Then I hope I get to experience a few more of these imaginary little moments. They add a little spice to life.

What do you think: flirt or fantasy?

Photo: Don Delfin Almonte

PS: If you enjoyed this, you might like SATURDAYS With Diana, my little Saturday-morning magazine on Substack. Every issue explores one feeling we've all had, through stories, art, music and a few surprises. Take a peek at one here, free of charge.