By the time you reach college, you have outgrown the paralyzing fear of talking to, let alone flirting with, a person you are attracted to. Much of this newfound confidence comes from the hard liquor pulsing through your veins three nights a week. You’ve got it down: the eye contact, the giggle, the arm graze. You have become a master at the not-so-subtle flirting. Suddenly, however, you’re not only flirting with those you’re interested in. You flirt with boys, girls, that creepy captain on the booze cruise, your English professor. You are a flirting machine. You have adopted the friendly flirt. Now, your average level of friendliness has become equal to that of a Vegas streetwalker. You think about your last evening out on the town. You realize that you accidentally gave off flirtatious vibes to everyone in the room. Why were you winking so often? God, it looked like your eye was just twitching. Did you really tell that guy that you thought the bright green color of his pants brought out his eyes? Why were you throwing joking, sultry glances at your friend’s girlfriend? Later you see a friend, who lets you know that one of the people you threw one too many winks at last night was thinking about asking you out. “What? Why?” you question. Was the hair ruffle going too far? You begin to realize as this scenario repeats itself with several more sincere souls that not everyone throws out indiscriminate fluttering eyelashes to anyone in their line of vision. This column is meant to be taken as social commentary. The Cynic does not advise you to do or not do any of the activities mentioned above.