Wedded Bliss doesn't translate into asexuality in any language. See why one wife flirts shamelessly and why her husband loves it.
He's coming over. My blood pressure rises as I ruffle my hair for fullness. A project discussion ensues but ends quickly. He lingers, making himself more comfortable, leaning against my desk. It starts off quite innocent-an exchange of weekend excursions with updates on extracurriculars-but soon leads to a knowing glance here, a guileful comment there. It's not long and we're both enthralled in our intellectual intercourse.
There's just something about it-the way he looks at me with that sparkle in his eyes. A sheepish grin spreads across his face as that sweet, simple something of unspoken awareness blossoms between us-we're flirting.
It's a snippet of ecstasy in my monotonous day. It makes taking the kids to soccer practice a lot more interesting and work a helluva lot more fun. There's just something so exhilarating about discovering that chemistry that won't quit; something so empowering within its implicit dance of enchantment.
And yes, I am happily married. In fact, I love my husband madly. But I'm married-not dead. I didn't sign legal documents denying my ability to secrete pheromones-I promised to love, honor, and cherish-and trust me, I do. My titillating dialogues shouldn't be considered a detriment to our marriage, in fact, they should be thought of as an enhancement. My husband fully benefits from the flirting factor-the added bonus to my jovial discussions with the opposite sex. In essence this factor makes me feel sexier which in turn makes me feel sensual which in turn makes me oh-so-bold in the bedroom (or the kitchen or the shower or the car).
But the art of wedded flirting does walk a fine line. You go too far and you run the risk of ruining a friendship, or even worse, letting go of your inhibitions and destroying your marriage. Here are some key rules to keep you focused on your flirt without losing control.
Hands On, Hot Off: If he gets hands on, then it's time to turn off the mojo. A simple touch of your elbow may seem harmless at the time, but give an inch on this and he may get the wrong message-and take a mile.
Innuendo Ending: His hands aren't your only foes. Even conversation can cross the line-too many innuendos and it's not worth your time. The comments shouldn't be blatant or even sexual. They should bear a subtlety that can be masked in friendship (ever watch The Office?) This simplicity and sweetness ensures your moral status while allowing you (most of) the benefits of a bad girl.
Proximity Problem: He may not be touching you or vice versa, but standing an inch apart, face to face, dreamily or lustfully gazing into each other's eyes is probably a good sign that things have reached a boiling point. Back off and make sure that you've got a good five inches between full body contact.
While married flirting may seem unruly and reckless to the untrained eye-if it's done right-it's innocent and playful, rather than amorous and destructive. It brings back the confidence and sex appeal I had when I met my husband. It reminds me that I am an attractive woman, not because of how I look but for who I am.
If I simply wanted to be physically attractive, I'd settle for the everyday ogle-but I don't. Why? Because it's nowhere near enough and frankly, it's not appealing. I need to be reminded that my conversation and wit are just as sexy as my figure and features, if not more. If he lusts after my intellect, rather than my cup size, then he's much more advanced on the food chain than the average gawker and (possibly) worthy of my flirtations.
About the Author
Aria Stone was a rock star in her former delusions, beating drums unto deafness and screaming the melody of the woman warrior. These days she settles for schooling the next generation on what makes tenacious tunes, belting out lyrics on karaoke night and banging on pots in the kitchen with wooden spoons. She lives in a van (parked in her driveway) down by the river.
My curse is my gift. My nightmares, deep sensitivity, and emotional instability gives the best (and most uncomfortable) inspirations I could ever have. For me, art is passion - and visions are the mirror, which show my feelings and connect me with the rest of the world. Read More...
Aria Stone was a rock star in her former delusions, beating drums unto deafness and screaming the melody of the woman warrior. These days she settles for schooling the next generation on what makes tenacious tunes, belting out lyrics on karaoke night and banging on pots in the kitchen with wooden spoons. She lives in a van (parked in her driveway) down by the river.
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