After 19 years of marriage, I would have expected to feel reasonably confident flirting with my own husband. Apparently, confidence still requires a prompt reply.
I’m 39, he’s 45, and our marriage is good. I’m in excellent shape. Lately, my sex drive has been higher, so I’ve been initiating a lot. We’re intimate almost daily. There is very little here that suggests a shortage of mutual interest.
Still, I’ve started wondering whether I make myself too available. I’ll think I should ease up a little, give him a chance to miss being pursued. He has specifically told me I’m not too easy and that I don’t need to dial it back. Clear instructions. Somehow, I remain capable of misplacing them.
While he was traveling for work, I sent him a suggestive photo around 9:30 or 10 at night. I was partially clothed, with no nudity, and the message was that I wished he were there with me. It felt playful when I sent it.
He didn’t reply.
When I woke up at six, there was still nothing. The photo suddenly felt much less playful sitting there unanswered. I felt exposed, embarrassed, and increasingly convinced I’d done something annoying. So I deleted it.
Then I sent a good morning text saying I was looking forward to seeing him later that day. He replied in the same spirit. He never mentioned the photo.
I don’t know whether he saw it. It’s hard for me to imagine he didn’t, because he usually has his phone with him. But that still leaves me guessing, which I have apparently decided to do at full capacity before breakfast.
Now part of me wants to retire from sending pictures altogether. Another part remembers that this is the man who keeps telling me my attention is welcome.
I’m looking forward to seeing him. I’m also embarrassed enough to need somewhere to admit all this. The photo is gone; the perfectly ordinary good morning exchange is still there.
