Flirty, but not dirty

Any 40-something wife and mother who tells you she doesn't like occasional attention from men is a liar. A teeth-whitening-strips-wearing, gray-hair-dying, water-aerobics-attending liar.

Happily married women enjoy a compliment or flirtation when it's directed at us by a handsome, well-dressed, intelligent stranger. We can politely decline the advance, say goodbye and giggle about it with our girlfriends afterward.

I don't have a ton of experience in this department. I was practically date-free my entire high school career, and I attracted only a few men in college. They wouldn't take me out in public, but I was allowed to iron their clothes in private and that was always a special thrill.

I met my husband, fell in love, and we got married after graduation.

That was pretty much it until a few years ago, when men began taking notice of me - mostly because their former prom-queen wives were involved in a different kind of passionate affair ... with Krispy Kreme doughnuts. When these men would flirt, I'd laugh and giggle in an innocent, I've-still-got-it, never-had-it-before, hope-they-don't-stalk-me kind of way.

The other night, after a long day folding laundry, waxing my upper lip and looking for an attorney to go after whoever invented wedge heels, I got a friend request on Facebook. We'd known each other in college and I'd heard he went to law school. He immediately IM'd me and then...

Him: Can I take my lawyer's hat off for a minute and tell you something?

I was ready for some secret "only lawyers know this" knowledge.

Me: Sure.

Him: You're very beautiful.

I looked in the mirror and rolled my eyes. My mop of curls was pulled back by a Scrunchie, for heaven's sake, I hadn't shaved since April, and the drink on my desk was a potent mix of prune juice and green tea.

Me: I'm really not. Don't let my profile picture fool you. It's a lie wrapped in an enigma. I'm a frazzled mom whose hair is allergic to humidity.

Him: You sell yourself short. Wanna meet for a good time?

It's always nice when a man who isn't legally required to shows an interest. Let's face it: The last stranger who was polite to me expected a tip when he returned with my car. But I certainly didn't need another man in my life. Husband, two kids, and Keith Olbermann are plenty.

Me: Thanks for the kind words. I appreciate it.

Him: Are you alone?

Me: Look, mister, I'm never alone. My kids are within earshot, arguing over who really won at checkers three hours ago, and napping Husband will soon wake up and ask me to shave his neck.

Long pause.

Him: BRB.

After a few minutes, I realized he wouldn't be right back. He wouldn't be back at all.

I was kind of disappointed. He was the only one who took my wedge-heel lawsuit seriously.