The Day I Forgot How to Flirt (And the Moment I Got It Back)
The day I lost my ability to recognize when someone was flirting with me was the day I met Jason Burke. That was... eight or nine years ago now, maybe more. Time blurs, especially when you’re on a long, winding journey back to yourself.
I was at Jake’s Resort in Jamaica—one of my favorite places on Earth. Jason was clearly flirting, clearly wanted to walk me to my room. And I? I was completely oblivious. Shut down. Disconnected. “No, no, it’s fine,” I told him, brushing it off. Not realizing until much later that he had been trying to connect, trying to offer something.
A few years before that, I’d also been at Jake’s. That time, I had a very different experience—an undeniable message from Spirit, a potent connection with someone I met there. So maybe, in contrast, my disconnection with Jason marked the beginning of a long shutdown for spiritual growth and expansion. Maybe I had closed the doors because I no longer wanted to give my body—my sacredness—away so easily. Maybe I had forgotten how to flirt because I had stopped letting that part of me breathe.
And then, just recently, something shifted.
At Ghost Ranch, during my Family Constellations training, I met a man. A beautiful man. Let’s call him Chappie—that’s what he told me his name was. "Like El Chapo," he said with a sly smile. He was tall—6'6"—with a salt-and-pepper beard and a magnetism that wrapped itself around me before I even realized what was happening. A man who was both gorgeous and guarded.
What made it even more surreal was that my entire training group was there—witnessing the moment. Witnessing me come alive again. Watching the part of me that had been dormant, hidden away for years, begin to stretch and yawn and peek out into the sun.
It wasn’t a full flirt session. It wasn’t the bold, playful, magnetic dance I used to know so well. But it was something. I offered him a flyer. I thought it had my email on it—it didn’t. Just my website. Which, let’s be honest, he probably won’t visit. He probably won’t dig around to find my number or send me a message. So now, I’m left with this image of him burned into my third eye. His face showing up every time I close mine. And I probably won’t ever see him again.
That’s the saddest part, maybe. The missed opportunity—not just for connection, but to fully reclaim the wild, sensual, untamed woman I once was. The one I still am. The one who deserves to be seen, felt, desired. She didn’t fully show up that day, but a piece of her did. And I’m holding onto that.
And here’s the twist: When Winston passed, I remember praying. I asked my guides, I asked God—send me a man who carries Winston’s spirit in human form. At the time, I didn’t know what that would look like. I didn’t know it might be Chappie. I didn’t recognize it in the moment, but later... it hit me. He felt like Winston. And now, he won’t leave my mind’s eye.
I know it sounds crazy. I know it sounds like a fantasy. But that’s my hope. I hope I see him again.
And if I don’t? I hope the woman who came alive at that table never goes back to sleep.
Jessica Alejandro. LMFT
