Uh oh. Am I flirting with you? Indeed I am.

Once upon a time, in the land before marriage and kids, I was a solid flirt. Not over-the-top, but I had my moments. I even indulged in the old school head-tilt from time to time. And you know what? Flirting was fun. In college and law school, I looked forward to nights out because I so enjoyed the playful banter that would invariably ensue between moi and a medley of cute guys. Please note that I was not looking forward to hooking up (yes, I just said hooking up. I’m allowed). I was eager for the light and lovely chit-chat.

So. Why am I talking about this now – the lost art of flirtation? After all, I now reside – and happily – in the land of marriage and kids. My days are not spent anticipating cheeky exchanges with beautiful strangers. My nights are not spent in dimly-lit bars scoping out brooding poets and hot lacrosse players. No. My days are spent in the company of two little girls and this screen. My nights are spent (yes, largely on the couch. Sue me.) with my forever man. So, why this topic today?

First, I am realizing something. What I write about affects me. That might not strike you as revolutionary, but this truth is just beginning to dawn on me. If I spend my days talking only about parenting fails, blank pages, existential grays, and the bleeding of past dreams, I might just spiral into a bit of a self-induced depression. Not good. So. Today, I woke up and said, Flirtation! Let’s do it!

Second, and more importantly, I have a belief:

Life without flirtation is blah.

I believe this. Yes, we get older, some of us even grow up, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop with the giggles and head-tilts and goofy chatter, does it? No, it doesn’t. Adulthood (yuck) is riddled with responsibilities, yes, and much of the time we are expected to be (or act like) serious creatures, but that doesn’t mean we have to lose our silly selves.

A critical clarification is in order here. I am using the term flirtation quite broadly. Flirtation does not presuppose anything sexual. I am not advocating that all of you reading this now log off and go out and flirt with a handsome bartender. No. What I am saying is that flirtation, in the wide sense of the word (think: playful banter, koo-koo chemistry) is vital to happiness. Too much seriousness? Good luck with that.

Last night I went on a date with Husband. We walked around the neighborhood hand-in-hand. I could not decide what I wanted to eat, so we stopped in front of about six restaurants before deciding on one. Husband mocked my lovely indecision. Over sushi, we talked and laughed. We flirted. It was fun. It felt good.

It was a great night. And I slept well. And woke up smiling and thinking that we do have some control here. Life takes turns we cannot predict or prevent, but there are things we can do to sweeten our days. To put the silly and sexy and fun back in that fabulous existential pot.

One thing? We can flirt. That is, if we remember how…

{Oh, and the picture above? In the likely event that you are confused, that is not Husband and me. We are far less hideous.}

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• Do you agree that life without flirtation is blah?
• When is the last time you flirted, really flirted?
• Do you think flirtation is an important life skill? Or is it inappropriate after a certain point in life?
  
• Do you agree that flirtation does not have to be done with an agenda, that it can be totally innocuous?
• Are you affected by the content of what you write? Have you ever forced yourself to lighten things up on the page so as to lighten your mood?
• Were you a blue-ribbon flirt once upon a time?

Sometimes, flirtation gets us in trouble. Exhibit A: Quinn. Want to read her story? Then click! (Warning: parts of said story are a wee bit naughty in nature. Do I tell you this to entice you to purchase? Absolutely.)