Bad wife

Last night, I did not want to take my husband to his little "event". I did. I ran a few errands, shamelessly flirting with the man at the liquor store. I picked husband up, and despite giving a slight elbow into his ribs, we ended up at dinner with other participants. I was not friendly, I didn't feel the need to be.

Side note: Having some issues as my body "rights" itself hormonally. This does not help.

I feel the change in the atmosphere when I want to be bad. I smiled at too many men in Target last night. I enjoy leaning over a counter and noting whether or not they notice the slight quarter inch of bra showing, standing up straight once they do.

I'm not the overt type. I'm subtle. I'm not out with twice the makeup and half the outfit. I don't hit on men, I make playful conversation. I may be wearing slutty panties, but they're hidden under conservative clothes. I don't wear a wedding ring though (If anyone asked, I would say I'm married, but I forget repeatedly to have it made smaller) and I wonder if men notice.

I've been replaying things in my mind. Going further back than usual, to partners I don't always remember fondly. Revisiting those mornings where you didn't want to ever leave the bed. Afternoons where you felt worshipped. Consuming nights where the rest of the world could fall away and you wouldn't notice.

I don't have any former friends or flames in D.C.anymore. Which is probably a good thing, but if I did, it could be a much more exciting trip.  My fantasy creating mind has been working overtime, thinking up scenarios. Even as I get things together to pack; picking panties and shoes and dresses I know make me feel sexy. Knowing I should probably stay out of the hotel lounge and such, but wondering how I'll fill up all my free time. Agonizing over my sleep patterns and how much harder it is with only a suite to pace. There's at least the sofa, so I'm not forced into bed.

I know I'm not a good wife. I know I most likely fall into the bad wife category. Sometimes, it's hard to think about that. Sometimes, I just don't care. While I know there's a lot at play, the rejection from my husband over the years wears at me. Even if things magically improved, the damage is done. I need to be wanted and desired, even if at a distance. Even if for only a brief moment.