Also makes it harder for women; a lot of good men are afraid of the sort of banter I might find charming and appealing. (The creeps, alas, will ever be creeps, and are only deterred by actual threats; an “I’m not interested, really,” doesn’t seem to register)
I am terrible at flirting: either I didnt’ recognize the guy was doing it (and didn’t reciprocate as I might have wanted to), or thought he was when he wasn’t, actually, and wound up rebuffed and silently disappointed. I also think I am just bad at flirting; I tend to be too serious in person and flirting takes a certain degree of wearing one’s personality lightly that I seem not to have.
Any man who can’t flirt without being raunchy is a curse on the sex.
Which is not to say that a progression isn’t a part of it — but a wise male lets the woman set the pace. And if she doesn’t, er, advance the narrative despite clearly enjoying the banter, one shouldn’t spoil a mutually fun interlude by changing the spelling of its third syllable.
Besides, if you and she have the chance to pick up again another time, wouldn’t you rather be seen as a playmate than a predator, just in case there is progress to be made?
Pick-Up Artist culture is too fixated on racking up scores, and has been too successful at turning “friend” into a synonym for “loser.”