Alright, let’s talk about this whole “Christmas flirting” thing. It’s a bit of a laugh, isn’t it? Every year, the mistletoe comes out, and suddenly everyone’s trying to figure out how to be charming without looking like a complete plum.

For years, I was firmly in the “complete plum” category. I remember one office Christmas party, I thought I was being smooth. Ended up talking about the structural integrity of gingerbread houses for a solid ten minutes to someone who just wanted another drink. Yeah, not my finest hour. It got to a point where I just dreaded those festive gatherings, socially speaking.
So, a few Christmases ago, I figured, heck, I need to actually practice this. Sounds ridiculous, I know, practicing flirting. But honestly, I was tired of just standing by the punch bowl, pretending to be fascinated by the ice cubes.
My Highly Unscientific Method
First, I decided to just observe. Like a nature documentary, but with more awkward silences and bad Christmas jumpers. I went to a couple of local Christmas markets, a friend’s party. Just watched how people talked to each other. Some folks are just naturals, aren’t they? They’d just say something simple, like “That’s a brave sweater!” and suddenly they’re laughing and chatting. Noted.
Then I tried some baby steps. My grand strategy? Compliments. Simple, low-risk.
- “Love your Santa hat, very festive.” – Got a smile. Okay, progress.
- “Those cookies look dangerous.” – Led to a brief chat about baking. Not bad.
- “Did you knit that scarf yourself?” – Turns out, they did. Accidental win!
My big takeaway from this phase: keep it light, keep it about something immediate. Don’t go deep too fast. Nobody wants a philosophical debate over their mulled wine.

The next stage was trying to actually initiate a slightly longer conversation. This is where things got a bit dicey. I remember trying to chat with someone at a Christmas concert during intermission. My opening line? “Bit chilly in here, isn’t it? Wonder if they’ve insulated the roof properly.” Crickets. Absolute silence. She just sort of nodded slowly and turned away. Right. Note to self: building maintenance chat is not prime flirting material.
I even tried some of those cheesy Christmas-themed lines I found online. Just for a laugh, mostly with friends. Let me tell you, saying “Are you Christmas? Because I want to Merry you” out loud makes you question all your life choices. It’s a good way to get your mates to buy you a pity drink, though.
Why I Even Bothered With This Nonsense
Look, all this “practice” wasn’t about becoming some kind of holiday heartthrob. Far from it. The truth is, I spent a lot of my earlier years feeling pretty out of step, especially during big social seasons like Christmas. It always seemed like everyone else got the memo on how to connect, how to be easy-going, and I was just… there. Awkwardly. It wasn’t a great feeling, you know? Seeing everyone else paired up or in their happy little groups, and I’m wondering if it’s too early to leave without looking rude.
So, this whole “Christmas flirting” experiment, as daft as it sounds, was really just me trying to push myself out of my comfort zone. Trying to learn how to just talk to people, to engage a bit, without my brain short-circuiting. It was less about “flirting” and more about not feeling like a complete alien at a party.

What I really found out is that most people are just looking for a bit of friendly interaction. The “flirting” part, if it happens, is just a bonus. The main thing was learning to relax a bit, not take myself too seriously. And definitely not to bring up roof insulation.
So, yeah. My grand Christmas flirting escapade. I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered it. I still have my moments of spectacular awkwardness. But I’m better than I was. Now, I mostly just try to be genuinely interested in what people have to say. Ask a question, listen to the answer. Turns out, that’s about 90% of it. The other 10% is probably just having a decent Christmas jumper and not spilling your drink on anyone. Still working on that last part, to be honest.