BRB: How to enjoy and then scare off middle-aged men who flirt with you while your husband is asleep

Any forty-something wife and mother who tells you she doesn’t like occasional attention from men is a liar. A teeth whitening-strips wearing, grey-hair dyeing, water-aerobics attending liar.

Women enjoy getting hit on, flirted with, and approached by other men. Period. End of story.

Of course, there is the manner in which it’s done that makes all the difference in the world. We don’t want someone we know – a brother-in-law, co-worker, or employer – making eyes at us.

Unless we do, but that’s a whole other post.

No, I’m saying that happily married women enjoy a compliment or flirt when it’s directed at us by a handsome, well-dressed, and 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. Practically date-free my entire high school career; I attracted a few men in college. They wouldn’t take me out in public, but I was allowed to go to third base with them 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 Crème. When such men would flirt, I’d laugh and giggle and let it go to my head for a few moments.

Boy, did I have a lot to learn.

For one thing, I tried to remain friends with these men. That was a bad call. It only encouraged them to believe there was a chance they’d score. As a result, they behaved in ways unbefitting a gentleman. (Look for specific examples, names, and addresses in my upcoming memoir Learning Curves.)

Nowadays, I realize it’s not healthy to maintain friendships with people who are trying to tap my ass. But I still think it’s flattering and entertaining 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, I got a friendship request from one such lawyer and accepted it. He immediately IM’d me and we took a few minutes to discuss my case.

And then…

Him: Can I take my lawyer hat off for a moment?

At this point, I believed he was going to tell me ways I could Norma Rae some bastards.

Me: Sure.

Him: You’re very beautiful.

I leaned over, 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 pic fool you. It’s a lie wrapped in an enigma. I’m a frazzled mom whose hair is allergic to humidity. You’d meet me in public and avert your eyes, take my word for it.

Him: I’ve looked at all your pictures and disagree. You sell yourself short. Wanna meet for a good time?

How to handle such a request?

I’ve never been the type to gasp and say, in a southern accent, always a southern accent, “I’m a married woman. Good day, sir. I said, good day!”

Then again, I really didn’t want to deal with another man. Husband, two kids, and Keith Olbermann were plenty.

But 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.

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

Him: Are you alone?

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m a suburban wife and mother with poor circulation and little or no patience.

Me: Look, mister, I’m never alone. My kids are within earshot, arguing over who really won Checkers three hours ago, and Husband is taking a nap before he wakes up and asks me to clip his nose hairs.

Long pause.

Him: BRB.

After a few minutes, I realized he wasn’t coming back.

Lawyer and I couldn’t ever be friends, but I didn’t expect our relationship to end so soon.

I was kind of hoping he’d give me a discount.

Drat.