Illustration by Sana Amin/The Gazelle

A few nights ago in Beijing, I had a conversation with some friends about the phases of relationships. They told me that high school was the time when teenagers learned how to flirt, and that by the time one gets to college, this skill should be mastered.

According to this timeline, I’m screwed.

I’ve been in a stable relationship for the past five years, which accounts for every year in high-school and one semester in college. It has been over for almost a month and a half now, so I’m experiencing life as a free woman for the first time in half a decade. Even though a month may not be enough time for a period of rediscovery, I’ve been able to notice a few things about myself — such as the fact that I can’t flirt.

Well, it’s not that I can’t flirt, and more like I have lost all sense of direction on how to go about it. I haven’t been in the game for five years. Not that flirting at 14 is considered part of the game anyway. If there is one thing that I have realized during my first — and only — semester not in a long distance relationship, it’s that flirting has evolved since my pubescent 14-year-old days.

When I first started dating, everything was about timing and being ready for all my firsts: first date, first kiss, first time having sex. It was about pace, going slow and being sure. However, at least one of those firsts has already happened to most of us college students, so there is no need to consider readiness anymore. This in turn makes the order of events that I had in my mind about what goes into building a relationship seem almost reversed.

In my first semester, I’ve seen how the sweetest relationships start off as unplanned hookups and only after that become something more concrete. Things just happen and one lets them be. And it’s great, but I feel like I’m a disoriented mess.

Now, don’t judge me. It’s not like I have been hitting on every guy I’ve been meeting or that I’m eager to jump into a new relationship, but there have been some attempts that have made my friends react with phrases like “Flavia, that’s not how you hit on guys,” or “Flavia, if you’re going to flirt with a guy, don’t say that” or just a simple “Gross.”

I am completely lost, but I am lucky to have great guy friends to help me out. I got quite the recommendation from one of them: “Just be a girl.” I guess I’ve never been great at that either. It turns out that an explicit sexual comment followed by a wink is not considered girly or a proper flirting skill. And apparently people are also not into receiving a straight up “Let me have your babies” or constant Snapchat spam with captions varying from “You are the love of my life” to “That’s not how you speak to your future wife.”

But then again, that is part of who I’ve always been — a clown with no shame about looking like one. Realizing this aspect of me has made my post breakup time more enjoyable. I can just come up to my friends and yell, “You’re looking sexy tonight. I could eat you up,” and we will just look at each other in disgust and move on.

My flirting may get an F and a lot of blank stares, but it sure is better than Tinder or sobbing over being alone. After a good laugh, I remind myself that I don’t need anyone by my side to enjoy life.

I know this all may seem a bit anticlimactic considering the Valentine’s Day love season, but I believe there is no love greater than the love for one’s self. There is no greater discovery than the realization that even after being with someone else for so much time, I am still the owner of my happiness.