Look at me Being married might signal the end of romantic pursuits, but does it have to mean the end of flirting? BY DAVID VALDES GREENWOOD

I consider myself married. I didn’t head to Canada to snap up one of those nifty homo marriage licenses, but I did walk down the aisle with a fine man one winter day a few years ago, and we emerged from that ceremony with shiny rings, new last names, and a full complement of in-laws and flatware. You get the idea.

Being married means the end of youthful romantic pursuits: scouring the personal ads, being set up by friends, going on the resulting blind dates, and exchanging phone numbers with the random hotties who always appear just moments before your blind date with someone else. But there is one playful pleasure no member of a couple need ever give up: flirting. You might find that surprising — even risky — behavior, but I say the only thing a couple should fear about flirting is that it will end.

Ah, flirting. The held gaze, the look back over a shoulder, the raised eyebrow across a crowded room — this is the lifeblood of fantasy and ego maintenance (not necessarily separate things, mind you). Nonverbal signals give off an electric charge that wires you, just for the moment, to a stranger or casual acquaintance. The other guests at a party disappear for a moment; buzzing crowds at a coffee shop become white noise. All you can hear is the crackle of connection between you and the object of your flirtation. Forget heavy petting: Heavy Looking is hot.

Of course, when you’re single, this silent connection is only the first stage of flirting, and the potential to seriously ramp things up is part of the premise. After sufficient Heavy Looking, you may inch up to Playful Banter, Innuendo, Innuendo with Artful Touch, and then — well, then you don’t need flirting anymore, you need condoms. That progression is both blessing and curse: blessing because getting laid is a constant goal if you aren’t; curse because the knowledge that flirting comes with coital possibilities vastly increases the pressure.

Unless you’re married.

If you intend to stay married, and have chosen monogamy as a lifestyle, then flirting is the perfect low-pressure outlet for your inner Romeo or Juliet. When each half of a couple has outside reason to think, "I’ve still got it," it keeps him or her even more attractive at home. And the perks are clear: without being unfaithful, you can remind yourself that you are not conjoined to your partner; plus, you can boost your own sense of sexiness (and someone else’s) without performance anxiety or risk of STDs. Because the action takes place largely in your head, you can interpret every gesture the way you like, invest every look with added meaning, and savor the fantasy of each exchange without the cost. It’s all the flavor, none of the fat.

In a gay beach town this spring, my husband and I each got a taste of Heavy Looking. At a beachwear store, the clerk all but asked if he could personally help my hubby in and out of swimsuits. The next day, the owner of a men’s-clothing store remarked innocently that he needed more "big guys" like me to patronize his shop, and suggested that he’d like me to model for him sometime; what he didn’t say was perfectly clear from the flashing, playful look in his eyes. My husband and I both came home from that trip with glowing tans and swollen egos.

I know, I know — there are potential problems here. For one thing, an object of your flirtation who knows you’re married may decide to kick things up a step anyway. A man I’ll call G.I. Bill used to flirt with me occasionally, using a finely honed three-pronged approach: searching gaze, coy smile, and quick disappearance. This was excellent behavior, if you ask me (especially step three). Imagine my dismay when, with no preface or even an exchange of names, he finally hit me with a lame come-on. This was followed by his version of Playful Banter, which managed in quick succession to reference both his wife and my wedding ring, on the way to a mention of his car. Um, hello, buzz kill: I’ll be going now.

There’s also the matter of status-change flirters: someone with whom you flirted before you were off the market. Last year, while my husband and I were separated (something that didn’t require a trip to Canada to achieve), I flirted — wordlessly, but quite clearly — with Doc, a hunky lad who had every (unspoken) reason to think I was fair sport for progress. Recently, the first time I saw Doc after reuniting with my hubby — my wedding ring conspicuously back on my finger — I wove a mention of my husband into our conversation, just to be clear that the name of the game would officially stay Heavy Looking. But, horror of horrors, the only looking Doc was doing was at the ring. With my status altered, and further options reduced, I was decidedly less flirtable. This was perfectly fair — Doc is single and fully deserving of all the higher stages of flirting — but I still hated to see the shift in his gaze from flirty to friendly.

This leaves me momentarily flirtless — and being flirtless is deeply unsettling. What if no one ever makes slightly-too-long eye contact with me again? Have I aged out of flirtability? Have I had my last Heavy Look? Will my poor husband now be saddled with total responsibility for making me feel desired? For the health of our union, this cannot be allowed to last.

The only way to deal with this situation is to get back in the game. I’ll have to just keep my eyes open, one eyebrow ready to rise at a moment’s notice, and — wait! Is that cutie across the coffee shop smiling at me? Just like that, things are looking up.

David Valdes Greenwood can be reached at mambobean@hotmail.com