The last time I was flirted with...

Last night, Tony was in an amourous mood.  Not much different from any other night (or any other man, I think) but I was still dealing with the monthly lady issue, so it was an access denied situation.
Then he told that he ran into a woman who was flirty with him.  I rolled my eyes.  Wait, no I didn't.  Apparently I fluttered my eyelids.  I used to roll my eyes, but to be honest, I was getting serious headaches from my eyes staring at my brain all day, so I subconsciously developed an eyelid flutter.  Well, twitch.  I'm twitchy. It's probably one of those ticks that comes from being married to a man whose main mission is to tease me and purposely annoy me on a regular basis.  Ten years and I've got a twitch.  What will twenty years bring? A shoulder tick? Incontinence? I'm on the edge of my seat with anticipation.

Tony seems to think that he doesn't get flirted with very often, but I call bullshit.  Now I know my husband is good looking, and he dresses nicely for work and is very helpful, but why all the flirty-business? I have complete faith in his monogamy skills, so I don't really have a problem with flirting, per se.  Here's my beef: where's MY FLIRTING??

The last time I was flirted with was...poo on toast, I can't remember.  Maybe when a teenager tried to pick me up while trick or treating at my house? I was 24.  Then again, his friends may have put him up to it, or he was drunk (he was like 8 feet tall and significantly off balance).  Other than that, men just don't flirt with me. Although in that case, it was a teenager, so I guess my original statement holds.  Sarah = no flirt zone. And, to keep it brief, here is a list of reasons why I think that is:

• I had three babies.  Pushed them out of my vagina.  EWW! STRETCHY! SLIMY! EWW! PUT IT AWAY!!
• I puked all over the nurses, myself, my IV stand and the walls while pushing out baby number one. Anyone in the room would be revolted by me for all time.
• Although I cannot prove it, I am pretty sure I pooped on the delivery table. Doesn't everyone?
• When I was little, I used to pick my nose and eat it.  That is a permanent scar on your flirtability record.
• My boobs have gone all the way from an A cup to G cup and back to a C.  You know what that means? Think saggy baggy elephant.
• I knit.  Old people knit.  Therefore I must be old. You don't flirt with an old person.  You help them cross the street.
• I have a pill calendar.  Also old. Help me carry my groceries, please.
• I work out and am in great shape.  But I think that may work against me because people live in fear of my raw power. I could kick most people's butts. Or at least kick their butts in a burpee show-down.  
• While out in public, I always have at least one kid with me.  Who is probably fighting or whining or trying to steal Skittles from Walmart.

Tony = FLIRT HERE PLEASE.  Why?

• Tony had kids by having sex with me, then finger twisting his awesome mustache while handing out quality Cuban cigars in the delivery room as everyone congratulated him on producing male offspring who will one day inherit the kingdom.
• He has  kids. Men who are involved dads are sexy.  FACT. 
• His nametag and credentials are embroidered on his work attire.  Unlike my "Hello! My name is_____________".
• He is on a bunch of committees and organizations that make him well known and seem powerful.  Chances are, he doesn't fart at any of these meetings. Lucky them.
• He is hands down the best baker in town.  I don't even have to meet other hobby bakers.  Tony's bread is so good that a friend of ours plowed our driveway in exchange for bread. 

Now, I am not asking for flirting or for a pick me up.  I'm just saying. Actually, I'm not sure what I'm saying. Maybe add distractbility to that list...ooh...look, a cute video of a puppy...