“…Rescued My Sex Life.” Here we have an example of a title that will get BG reading. Add the byline Diane Farr — she of superawesome tough-and-sweetness on Rescue Me (also, Numb3rs) — and I’m not looking away.

Farr wrote a nice essay in this month’s Marie Claire (put it onLINE, you guys!) about how utterly harmless, goal-less, going-nowhere-but-still-fizzy flirtation on the set of Californication — including but not limited to getting paid to make out with David Duchovny over and over and over and over … I’m sorry, what was I saying? Oh yeah, so she makes out with DD and exchanges sweet-nothing-at-alls with ScruffyCute Craft Services Kid, and all of a sudden she remembers that there IS sex life after three kids under the age of two.

“The days pressed on, and between makeouts, David and I said the same cute, cuddly lines to one another over and over for various camera angles, further reawakening the girly laughter that had often escaped me pre-babies. I’d go a round with David, then go chat up Work Crush [still wearing Hot Dress from Wardrobe], and after two minutes, I’d feel guilty, call my husband, and flirt with him, too. He didn’t know why I was so full of laughter, nor did he care. ‘You’re funny and sexy, and I really missed that,’ he said. And like that, I was his girl again.”

Nicely played, Ms. Farr. It’s so important — whether you’re taken or single — to live life on the Flirtation Continuum. Not to lead people on; not to go where you shouldn’t. But to allow yourself to connect with (most of) the full spectrum of feelings and connections between people, to remind yourself you still got it, to feel like the world is still full of buzz and sparkle and possibility, for all your relationships.

She should know, though, that Duchovny was, very likely, thinking of me.

Sean Gregory at Time.com:

The list of reasons to admire Barack Obama is longer than Pennsylvania Avenue. But please, and I’m begging here, let’s not hold him up as an exemplary husband simply because he takes his wife out on a date.

On Sunday, the New York Times did just that, with a story headlined “If They Can Find Time For a Date Night…” The gist: if the Obamas — with Mom committed to her various causes and Dad trying to save the free world — can still find time for each other, hey, lame husband sitting on the couch watching sports, time to step it up. /snip/

Yes, daily down time and date nights are cathartic and healthy: my wife and I, working parents with two young children, have strived, with varying amounts of success, to find the right moments to put out an APB for a sitter. But in the relationship department, no husband or couple should ever wonder why they’re not meeting a standard set by the Obamas.

Did you catch that NBC special on the White House? The Obamas happen to have some of the world’s smartest people working tirelessly on the dirty details of governance. Think those staffers working ’til midnight and grinding away the weekends spend a ton of blissful time with their wives? Chief of staff Rahm Emmanuel is killing himself while his wife and kids are stuck back in Chicago. Now there’s a guy I can relate to. /snip/

Air Force One makes romantic evenings in Paris a lot more possible.

The thing is, Obama is the first to acknowledge his enormous leg up when it comes to family life. He’s obviously working hard, and you can’t blame him for taking advantage of his situation to eat dinner with Michelle and the kids. I would do the same thing if I were President. But I’m not. And I’d thank the world to stop reminding me of that little fact, especially on date night.

So I’m on my second marriage. My third, if you count the eight-year relationship between the two. So I know from divorce, splitups and breakups, and I say basta. So anytime someone has constructive advice about how to make my marriage go the distance, I sit up and take notice. Immediately followed, usually, by slumping back down and putting my head between my legs, because omfg, I just can’t.

The New York Times has trotted out the old “date-night” advice: making time for each other to reconnect sans kids is good for your union. Well, duh. Is the New York Times going to pay Barnard Babysitting? Anyway, the newest research says that even if I manage to find a sitter, find enough energy, and tear myself away from my child — is there an opposite of dayenu? It’s not enough for us. If we do all that and then just sit at our favorite sushi place, staring at each other — we’re still in mortal danger of becoming a statistic. Turns out we have to do more than go on a date — we have to go on an exciting date!

Novelty is the goal — it’s supposed to re-up our supply of dopamine and mimic the headiness of our early love. You know what else would reignite my dopamine? My husband throwing out those heinous maroon sweatpants. But I digress. The studies indicate that we’ll feel more connected and satisfied if we do stuff we don’t usually do, like “attending concerts or plays, skiing, hiking and dancing.” That, my friends, is quite an evening.

Look, I’d love to. I’d love to hike and dance and hang-glide. (That’s not true. I would hate to hang-glide.) But I already feel so much pressure to plan a night out. And at this point, believe me, sitting at a table that someone else is going to clean up counts as a novel experience. I’m going to have to hope that’s enough for now.