and we are charged up sexually, we exude even more.
I have noticed the very same thing.
You have to be on your guard, I don't think you can turn it off. (Unless you chew garlic perhaps?)
Oh how primal, headhunter60,
Yes, it is very possible that you "give off signals." And why shouldn't you? Just because you're married doesn't mean you are dead?!? Plenty of men are happily married [how about them movie stars?] and women still hit on them left and right. Is it because they're all gorgeous? No. Is it because they radiate confidence, "a spring in their step?" Yep. Do they make "better eye contact?" Probably so, since feeling good and feeling validated in any area of our lives will make us happier, healthier and indeed "stand a little straighter."
As to pheromones, we all have that wonderful VNO (vomeronasal organ,) a little patch of supersensitive cells right inside our nostrils. The VNO picks up the 'odor' of pheromones in sudate, meaning sweat here. If you're screwing a good amount, chances are your testosterone count is up a little. Not a whole lot, but enough to make you smell different, at least as far as that super-sensitive VNO is concerned. From an evolutionary perspective, is is a good thing, because this physiological adaptation signals that you're at least functioning in the right department, and may be able to make a baby - Stone Age style. It has less to do with the perception of your being sated, and more to do with the fact that you may just be a reliable candidate to further the species.
Now the explanation above is not a for sure thing. We live in an intersubjective world, which means that its perceptions belong just as much to other people as it belongs to you. Your mental state may have just as much to do with this as your physical condition. So yes, your increased 'cockiness' 
may have made a difference. Should you "cut it out?" No way! Stay authentic and enjoy the attention as long as it lasts. When you're 90 and no one's looking, at least you'll have some fond memories!
Don't drag 'em by the hair though, you headhuntah ;-D ;-D,
the Love Goddess
-- Modified on 12/2/2006 7:23:06 AM
Back when my first wife took off with her best friend's husband, and I was left to raise the kids, I discovered a wild form of folk dance called Contra Dance, popular in New England and elsewhere. It pulled me out of a deep depression.
I threw myself into these dances, with live music (Celtic Riverdance style) and an aerobic pace. If I did not ask a woman to dance, I would get asked by a woman. The dances are in long parallel lines, so you can join in immediately, unlike a square dance.
The physical contact with many smiling, whirling women was mesmerizing, and the dancers soon experienced a natural high. Chemicals of excitement wafted by, to get trapped by the VNO patch of cells right inside our dancing nostrils - as our TER Love Goddess has explained.
After a few weeks of this, I found women hitting on me, even inviting me home after the dance. One wanted to leave halfway through the dance (she was a psychologist, getting her PhD at Harvard). I had never quite experienced this level of attention before.
The Love Goddess gave an explanation for how the hobby might be a cause of this phenomenon. It may also apply to hypnotic dancing. Additionally, with my ego and libido swept up in the frenzy of the dance, perhaps I seemed more elusive, or less of a pursuer - thus opening myself up to being pursued.
Certainly my smile of joy from the music and dance, and my growing confidence in dancing, helped big time with the ladies whose eyes I caught.
So, we have the hobby, the contra dance, and probably many other avenues to list?
-- Modified on 12/2/2006 9:41:41 AM
-- Modified on 12/2/2006 9:43:03 AM
-- Modified on 12/2/2006 9:44:38 AM
On my God, no, Love Goddess! That is Henry VIII in the red shirt. (His shirt was gold, but he just came to the dance after beheading Anne Boylen. So it is red.)
Me? I was so scared I peed in my codpiece. I was sitting up in the rafters. See my legs dangling down? Ho, ho, ho!
I endure that a lot in the gym.
At the gym, I know they're staring at me on the treadmill, yet when I look they avert their gaze. But I know; I know they're staring at my velvety split shorts, clinging to my firm buttocks, which leads to a display of my muscular, shapely thighs and athletic calves!
Whenever I pump hard on the treadmill -- as I always do -- I develop an erection, which the lady voyeurs always admire, almost as much as my nipples showing through my tight fitting top.
As I step down the treadmill and walk pass them, they always pretend that they're not watching. I can tell that they're moist, very moist.
Ladies, are you afraid that you'd get caught staring? I know that's not a problem with gay men; they often follow me to the parking lot. (Not that there is anything wrong with that).
