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What’s the difference between a flirt and a tease? According to my handy-dandy dictionary:
Flirt: verb – behave as if one finds another person sexually attractive without intending to have a relationship with them.
Tease: verb – tempt someone sexually, without intending to have sex with them.
They may sound a lot alike, but you’ll find a real difference in the synonyms listed in the same dictionary:
Flirt: tease, coquette, heartbreaker, lead-on, toy with, play with.
Tease: make fun of, laugh at, deride, mock, ridicule, taunt, bait, goad, pick on.

When a man refers to a woman as “a tease,” you can bet that it’s not a positive thing – it’s a warning to everyone else.

I also see a real difference in the two based on the “physical” actions of a flirt and a tease. A flirt likes to play, but those involved knows it’s a game, and it is done in front of everyone, including each other’s spouses. There’s giggling and pointing and the game is fun for everyone involved.

Teasing on the other hand often leaves someone unsure if what’s going on is a game or not. There is often a fine line between the two, but I’m willing to bet that almost all of us know the difference when we see it.

Flirting can happen at the strangest times. The best ones happen quickly, are often “dirty” and are followed by a quick return to reality. What follows is a real exchange that occurred on a social networking site. The names and a few words were removed to protect an identity (they appear in brackets[ ] ) We were talking about a picture of me in a Brownie uniform when I was six years old.

Him: “I was 2 in [that year]. But, I was into… skirts… even at that age!
Me: “That’s okay. I liked younger boys – they’re easier to tie up…”
Him: You know, handcuffs will never rust if they are coated with baby oil… I’m just saying…”
Me: “Silk doesn’t cut up the skin as much… I’m just saying…”
Him: “… I could always count on a lot of fun… I’m just saying…”
Me: “You, [his name], are a lot of fun!”
Him: “I am the fun guy. I hope to be the fun master someday lady!! Hooah! Seriously, that’s an adorable picture… [xxx] is now a girl scout…” (referring to his daughter)
Me: “If you’re a good little boy I might give you permission to be in charge. Hooah! Seriously, thanks – it’s one of my favorite pictures.”

A good exchange and then just before it goes too far… the return to reality and a catch up on the family. This is fun stuff – no harm, no foul, and no one feeling like they were mistreated. My husband was three feet away and I was laughing aloud as this exchange happened. Everything is out in the open where anyone (including our spouses) can see it.

But you can’t play these games with some folks. They live to make you uncomfortable and push your buttons. Those folks like to make everything a joke, but you become the butt of that joke when you step back. They take pleasure in your discomfort. Those are the ones who ruin the game for everyone.

They are also the reason that I learned to shoot! Okay, that’s a lie – I learned to shoot because it was fun and it turned out I was good at it. Being capable of removing the teases from my life is simply a bonus.

I, along with all of my characters, am fine with a little flirting. But if you’re a tease, I’ll simply warn you in advance – Colt Model 1911A1.

All right, I admit it, I’m curious about who’s reading and sharing my posts. I have the share counter to see if anyone is actually sharing things and they are. The series about self-promotion has been shared numerous times. It may sound silly, but I’m still new enough at this to be excited and pleased that people are reading and sharing. But I don’t really know where the posts about writing are going.

Also interesting is that my subscribers are going up. Not in huge ways, but steadily. So who out there is actually following me? Thank you for subscribing – that’s very cool.

To everyone who reads my blog, your comments would be welcomed, but if you’d rather not comment publicly, you can reach me via email at LynneS@lynnescottauthor.com. I’d enjoy hearing from you and I do answer all my mail. Thanks for making this so much fun.

Please indulge me as I share something about two very special warriors.

Jordan is graduating from basic tomorrow. For some folks that doesn’t have a lot of meaning, but to those of us that went before him, it means everything. He’s one of us – part of a broader family than he has yet to comprehend. I served with his dad, and I have no doubt that at some point Jordan may have thought his father would be a tough act to follow. Being Jordan – he didn’t follow. Yes, he joined the Air Force, but he’s taking a very different direction. He’s doing what every young man should. He’s going his own way and carving his own career path.

He didn’t have to join the Air Force – Jordan could have done anything. Smart kids like him have lots of choices in life. But he chose to do something he felt was important – something that defined who he really is as a person. Jordan is going to be a PJ. For my civilian friends, a PJ is a Pararescue Jumper. These are the men who go in after downed pilots, the men whose motto is, “That Others May Live.” This is a job that has a very high CDI (Chicks Dig It) factor; although, I’m sure that had nothing to do with his choice. Yeah, right!

Regardless of why he chose this career field, I simply can’t tell you how much I respect him for doing so. The upcoming training will be rigorous, but I know that Jordan has the determination and courage required. I salute you, Jordan. Welcome to our family.

The other person I need to talk about is my dear friend Teresa.

Teresa is doing the deployment thing. We aren’t supposed to say exactly where or when. We all know where, but I’m willing to play by the rules. Anything that will keep her safe and return her unharmed is fine by me. Teresa is one of mine. I always talk about my guys – she’s one of them. Trust me, she considers the term “one of the guys” to be a compliment.

She was a cadre instructor at Silver Flag Alpha when I was the first sergeant there. Don’t worry, Teresa, I won’t say how long ago that was. She took a break in service to raise her daughter, but she never lost her love for the military or her desire to serve her country. So after many years (still not sayin’) Teresa re-entered the service. Only this time, she went Army. At a point in life when most are thinking about trimming back on our workouts, Teresa decided that she could keep up with the kids. Not only keep up with them, but kick butt and take names. She fought for the opportunity to join, she fought to get the training slots so she could qualify, and she fought to be ready for this “adventure.” She wants to do this – this matters to her. All of us have our selfish reasons for wishing this wasn’t happening, but those of us who love her more than words can say, are keeping that to ourselves and cheering her on. Teresa has no doubts about her abilities or her mission, and I have no doubts about Teresa’s skills and courage.

Teresa is proud to be a soldier and do her part. I’m simply proud to be her friend. Come home safely, T. God speed, my sister. I love you.

I’m going to step out of the writing blog for a moment. The recent story of an Army sergeant killing civilians in Afghanistan has been on my mind. I won’t lie to you, I’m bothered most by the reality that I’m not shocked. I’m saddened, but I’m certainly not “stunned” that this happened. When I watched the first news story, one of my initial thoughts was, “Wow. We so did not need this right now. They’re already stirred up from the burning of the Korans. This is just going to make the whole country crazy. One guy screwed it up for everyone.”

It’s not that I don’t care about the civilians who died, but they aren’t who I’ve been thinking about. Nor have I really been thinking much about the man who did this – at least as a person. I’ve been thinking about the people who are paying the price of their inaction by allowing this man to continue in his duties when he had so many previous incidents. I’m also thinking about the people coming behind who will now have to pay a steeper price by facing an even angrier civilian population.

According to the media, this man had a history of violence when he drank. Part of me wonders how someone who had a history like his (multiple violent incidents) could remain in service. But I guess I’m not surprised by that either. Having some experience in dealing with men who carry weapons for a living, one of my early thoughts was, “Don’t tell me that the people in that unit didn’t know he was a loose cannon.” I knew who all my loose cannons were. Everyone in the unit knew who they were. And I know for a fact that when we had a guy that was a helluva troop, we all did our best to keep him. But, when you wear the uniform and you carry a weapon, you are held to a higher standard. I like to believe that none of us would stand-by and let someone with such obvious issues continue to carry a weapon or deploy.

Did we make mistakes and try too hard to save one of our men without outside help sometimes? Yes we did. Did it result in tragedy? On more than one occasion it did. Did I carry the burden of responsibility? Yes. As a first sergeant, I have always felt that they were my kids and I failed them. I may not have been in the position to know what was happening on the night that someone stepped across the crazy line, but I was responsible for making sure that their supervisors were mature and responsible enough to bear the weight of the responsibility for the lives they touched. In units where people carry weapons for a living, the supervisor is the first one who sees the issues and has to deal with them.

Sadly, the military has created a culture of “us versus them” within our own ranks. There is a constant hounding of personnel to turn in their teammates if they believe there may be an “issue” with alcohol, drugs, rage, stress, or any one of the hundred things that troops deal with. The problem remains that there is a stigma attached to the help process. The stigma of seeking help after the fact has been reduced tremendously, but during the deployment, you won’t find as many taking advantage of the available aid or being turned in by their buddies.

Seeking help during the deployment comes with the emotional issue of “breaking the bond of brotherhood.” When people work as a unit, it becomes ingrained that you are part of something greater and all the old clichés do mean something. “We’re only as strong as the weakest link. We are brothers in arms and you fight for the man beside you. We leave no one behind. You go, I go. Suck it up and drive on. I got your back, brother.” It is drilled into our heads that we have to show up and do our part because our failure to do so could result in the death of our friends.

Now, ask that man that you’ve created this belief in to voluntarily admit his weakness and walk away from his team, whether it’s for a day, a week, or a month. Damn few will do it. Most think they have a handle on the darkness that’s taking over their lives, and all believe that they will be viewed and treated differently by the only people they care about. The idea that he may have “let down his teammates” is more painful than any of the ugly crap crawling around in his noodle. He will, in most instances, bury the problem as deeply as he can and go do his job. Until one day, he simply can’t.

Now, ask his friend to turn him in. Unless he actually fears for the life of his buddy – it won’t happen – and even then, he may not do it. He’ll become his brother’s keeper and try to help him through the problem if possible. He knows that turning in his buddy will possibly be the end of that friendship and no one ever wants to believe that things are as bad as they are. If you’ve served in the military, you’ve all sat up more than one night with a friend who has stepped over the crazy line. How many of us have stopped our drunken buddy from either driving or punching a wall? How many of us have had friends do the same for us? And how many have kept it from the boss? We have the mentality that this is taking care of our own. And in 90% of the cases it is.

But how many of us also stood up and did the right thing over the years and got our friends the help they needed? How many of us made the effort to tell someone that we love more than our blood family that they are drinking too much and need some professional help? How many of us would have tried to stop what happened long before it happened? I have NEVER met a friend, an NCO, a first sergeant, an officer, or a commander who did not believe that they could and would do the right thing, regardless of the cost.

In this instance, someone’s buddy and supervisor failed to do what needed to be done. And now, the price for that failure is going to be paid by the people who come behind. They’re going to be hammered on three fronts and it’s damned unfair. First, the military will be all over them about watching their buddies and turning them in at the first sign of trouble. Valuable “down time” will probably now be taken up with more useless damn awareness training of some type. “We know what the hell to look for, you damn idiot, but that doesn’t mean we’ll talk to your pogue ass about it.” Second will be the pressure from the home front and media. Nothing drives people (who are already stressed) crazy more then constantly being asked, “Are you all right?” But they’ll be asked more, and they’ll also be dealing with the scrutiny of a press that needs to be fed by someone’s personal drama or tragedy.

Perhaps what bothers me most is that, thanks to this incident, the already dangerous situation for our troops has just spiked exponentially. I have a friend getting ready to deploy and that soldier will be facing even greater risks in the field because someone in the position to prevent this, failed to do the right thing early in the process.

We’re all okay with the commercial that says, “Friends don’t let friends drive drunk!” Well, guys, it’s time to be okay with, “Friends and supervisors don’t let their men who have well known and obvious issues deploy or carry a weapon.” It’s time to be okay with pissing your friend off and getting him the help he needs to save his life or someone else’s.

It’s time for all of us to man up and be our brother’s keeper in the right way. If your buddy is slipping over the damn line, whether it’s alcohol or anger management, quit thinking about your friendship and start thinking about saving a damn life. Because living with the knowledge that you stood by and did nothing is a hell of a lot worse.

Here endeth the rant.

Valentine’s Day is one of those days that just annoy the hell out of me. I hate being manipulated and that’s what it feels like. There’s a lot of pressure to do the right thing. Mr. Scott and I reached an agreement years ago that a card is okay, but even that isn’t really necessary.

When I was much younger, I kept wondering where my white knight was. No one swept me off my feet, took me away to a castle, or showered me with jewels. No one put me on a pedestal or bowed to my beauty. (Sorry, I just spewed my coffee on my keyboard with that one.) The point is that life wasn’t like the fairy tale. Heck, it wasn’t even a movie of the week. Life was simply life, and love wasn’t romance—it was something you worked to hold on to. Love isn’t about the box of candy and bouquet of flowers.

Neither Mr. Scott nor I are real romantics. We aren’t part of the hearts and flowers crowd, although I openly admit that I love to receive flowers anytime. I prefer the small gesture rather than the grand one. “One wed wose” is much better than a dozen in my world, and three is the perfect number. Both of us are the type of people who think deeds matter more than words. Not that the words aren’t important, and we both like to hear them, but they aren’t as important as the deed. Being there is what matters most.

Love is eating a lousy meal and not complaining because you know the person who made it is just as unhappy with the result as you are.
Love is making the coffee in the morning so your spouse can have five more minutes of sleep.
Love is making someone an egg sandwich when they just need one moment of normal in their life.
Love is patting your overweight wife on the ass when she’s having a really bad day and telling her that she’s still got a cute butt.
Love is about honoring the quiet time that your spouse needs in the morning before they can function.
Love is not complaining about the thing grating on your nerves because you know your significant other can’t fix it.
Love is fighting with each other over something stupid, but teaming up in a split second to yell at the kids.
Love is tolerating someone else’s noise when all you want is quiet.
Love is setting aside your own horror at a situation to help your spouse deal with the nightmare of sickness.
Love is putting up with your spouse yelling at the television during a football game.
Love is letting the person you care most about in life be whoever they need to be even if you don’t always understand it.

Love is sometimes as simple and as difficult as walking away but not quitting.

Hearts and flowers are nice, cards and candy are never out of place, and sweet words will always help, but it’s all about showing up even when neither one of you is perfect. Mr. Scott has put up with a lot, but he’s still showing up. So am I.

With the approach of Veterans Day on 11 November, I as usual have some thoughts – I hope they will give you pause for thought also.

I’m grateful for the “inclusiveness” that now symbolizes Veterans Day. I clearly recall a time when it simply wasn’t so. It always seemed to me that the veterans who served after World War II and before Desert Storm were largely disenfranchised during that time. World War II so impacted the nation that when it ended the entire nation celebrated and those veterans were welcomed home and hailed as heroes.

Sadly, there was no such celebration or welcome for the veterans of Korea, Vietnam, and all the operations after them, until the Gulf War. While the people who served during that time were honored by their families and other veterans, they were hardly the focus of the media and the general public. Veterans Day news coverage in the 1960s was focused on the World War I and II vets. All but ignored were the veterans of the Korean War. Their war certainly had none of the glamor of World War I or II and it ended in a truce rather than some grand victory that the nation could celebrate. Veterans of Korea were always around, but no one seemed to pay much attention to their sacrifices. In the 1970s and 80s, Vietnam veterans weren’t ignored, instead they often suffered cruelly from the mainstream media. They were rarely shown in a positive light, frequently being portrayed as “damaged and disturbed” by a war that also didn’t have a glorious ending.

But it was really those poorly portrayed men who made the biggest difference for all of us who came behind. They did this by drawing attention to the many issues faced by a wounded veteran who was forced to deal with an inadequate and antiquated health care system. Their physical and psychological wounds were really no different from those suffered by the veterans of Korea or the two world wars; however, those problems were now on display in front of the cameras for all to see.

And these veterans did not suffer in silence. They spoke out about their problems and changed the language we used to describe those issues. The psychological trauma suffered in war went from being called “battlefield fatigue” to being recognized as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They brought the struggle of dealing with their traumas out of the shadows and into the stark light of the television cameras, helping the world understand that the emotional damage of war can’t always be left behind in some foxhole or jungle, no matter how much the nation might wish it so. It was these very visible and brave Vietnam veterans who forced the federal government to make the desperately needed changes to the dilapidated Veterans Administration, and to raise its level of care and treatment for those who had sacrificed so much.

Since Desert Storm, the veteran’s stature in society has taken a dramatic upswing. Young and old are welcome to participate in the day’s events and the average American has become much more aware of the cost of a veterans service. As we watch our World War II and Korea veterans reach an age where more care is required, we see our Vietnam veterans stepping into the breach as legislators, administrators, activists, and volunteers. The veterans of the Gulf Wars and Afghanistan are now bolstering the legislation and changes that began with the Vietnam Era veterans.

Where once the World War II veteran cried when he saw the damaged boys from Vietnam come home, now it’s the Vietnam vets who cry for the kids of the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars. The counseling and assistance are there for today’s vets thanks to the demands of the veterans who came before them.

I appreciate that the current feeling in our nation is that of gratitude – thanks for the discounts, thanks for the parade, and thanks for finally recognizing ALL the service members. Thanks for marking the graves and honoring our fallen. Most of all, thanks for showing some respect for the price every veteran has paid with his blood, sweat, and more tears than anyone who hasn’t walked in his shoes can imagine.

For those of us who served, Veterans Day is a sacred commitment. It is the day set aside to remind us to honor our love, our sacrifice, and our commitment to each other. It is a reminder that the tears we shed are not for ourselves, but for the love of our brothers and sisters. It is also a reminder of the sacrifice and commitment we must all stand ready to give to our brothers and sisters, so that those who come behind us have the care they deserve when their turn comes.

I send my greetings, my thanks, my hopes and my prayers to all my brothers and sisters in arms. May you return safely to those you love, may your memories weigh lightly upon your soul, and may you know that you are forever honored in my heart and my prayers. Thank you all for your service and your sacrifice.