I don't go out of my way to flirt with random women, I'm just naturally charming. Yesterday I stopped by the convenience store for some convenience items, however, and when I got to the counter I was behind an attractive but decidedly post-Wall woman.

Bottle blonde, good figure, well-dressed in executive-level dress and pantyhose, clearly just got off of a hard day at work. In front of her on the counter were three six-packs of IPA. I overheard her talking to the clerk, with whom I flirt on a more professional basis, mentioning that she was having a crappy birthday.

I could say I was just being nice, but the fact was my Spidey-sense was alerting me to an opportunity to do a little harmless approach to see how I fared. It never hurts to keep your sword sharp, Gentlemen.

"Happy birthday!" I smiled. I wasn't really at my best - jeans and a t-shirt, unshaven, but I presented confidently. "Twenty nine?" I inquired, politely. She smiled girlishly.

"Again," she agreed. "Same as last year. Same as next year. I've had a shit birthday, though," she sighed. "I found out someone I work with has terminal cancer."

"Depressing," I agreed. "Hope things turn around for you today. Are you going out?"

"Having people over. Later. Right now I just want to go drink a few beers and relax before they arrive." Pause. Looks me up and down. "They won't be there until 8. I live right over there," she added, waving toward a high-end residential development nearby.

The invitation was hardly subtle. She was probably a decade older than me, but she was horny, lonely, and depressed. It would have been like sinking a twelve-inch putt. From the way she subtly shifted from working-woman mode to flirtatious-feminine mode, and the way she moved, I had no doubt at all that it would be worth the trip.

A weaker man would have jumped on it, I know, but that's not why I'm bringing it up. It's not my virtue I'm discussing. I purposefully don't wear a wedding ring, because it tends to attract the wrong sort of woman. She didn't know I was married, in her mind I was fair game. But I'm not certain a wedding ring would have stopped her.

She hastily handed me the convenience store's business card with her cell number on the back. "If you want to stop by," she smiled. "Right over there." Then she left with her three six packs of IPA. I hate IPA.

The reason I'm bringing it up is because I immediately found a way to bring it up to Mrs. Ironwood when I returned home. Employing some AM and a little humblebragging, I told her about the whole encounter. Even showed her the card. I added a little "I'm really not into GILFs, bless-her-heart," and expressed a little human sympathy for a poor, lonely old woman just trying to celebrate a rough birthday.

But it accomplished a lot of things all at once: established me as not only attractive to other women (basic Preselection) but also sought-after enough by unattached women to provide a reasonable basis for some proactive mate guarding. Then it gave me an opportunity to distance myself from the situation without invoking "but of course I only have eyes for YOU, Dear!" BP standard pablum. I got to show off my compassion and social awareness to my wife by proxy. And I got to remind her that there are always opportunities for a man to cheat, if he really wants to.

"That was very sweet of you," Mrs. Ironwood agreed. "But really - how hot was she?"

I considered. I objectify people for a living. She'll do this, from time to time, as a kind of minor, friendly shit-test. "Honestly? I probably would have done her. But she's almost your mom's age. Experienced, sure - I'm sure she does all sorts of kinky things to keep a man's attention. That does have a draw. But she's old and she drinks IPA. It would have been a one time thing. A man can only put up with so much."

That earned a rude remark, and then some very nice mate-guarding. I tossed the card in the trash without ceremony. It had served its purpose. Preselection, dread, and awareness of the Wall are your wife's constant companions. Demonstrating that I know my own SMV and how to play the game, showing that I knew how to play the course even if I didn't sink the putt,

Even in a good, friendly RP marriage a man should know how to use them effectively, without setting himself up for a massive shit-test as a result. I didn't have to assure Mrs. Ironwood that I was not cheating on her because of the frank and up-front way I discussed it with her - no obfuscation or deceit. But it did remind her that our quiet neighborhood is prowling with cougars who would be more than happy to take her man off her hands if she doesn't pay close attention. Message sent and received.