The Best Is Yet To Come…295 Days To Fix This

This past week-end was incredible.

Picture this…the roar of winter waves as they foamed, churned and crashed their way to a rocky stone-strewn shore. Sunsets of deep red, yammering yellows and passionate purples sinking below the marine layer as two 29 years marrieds held each other close. Hummingbirds floated in the garden while slimy banana slugs inched their way to freedom under the garden gate. And quite. Total 100% almost eerie quite… with no yelling for a “Mom” to break up an invisible fight. For three magical days we had time for just us.

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We walked the cliffs looking out over the Pacific, talking quietly and taking time to smell the roses along the way. We ate fancy dinners over whispered salacious conversations that would embarrass our older children for many years to come had they heard them. We walked around naked in the house, walls of plate-glass windows be damned. We treated each other as our best friend. We cuddled, we smooched, we laughed, and we played games like young lovers do with sweet barely there caresses that make the body POP! But mostly we just enjoyed one another from the top of our heads down to the tips of our toes and all places in-between; free to be ourselves like we used to be B.C. (before children)

I thought all was going well. Everything felt sweet and in its proper place on the emotional horizon. B was opening up. He was sharing. He was listening. And he was really there participating on every level. And then it happened and I was left with the sweat of utter terror that consumed me in a matter of seconds. I looked over at B and saw tears slowly sliding down his checks. Real tears from a man who I have only seen cry about four times in almost 30 years. And my first thought was “This is it. He is going to tell me…I did it…I tried…but I cannot keep going on with us, with you. It’s over.”

And I waited for the impact of his imagined words, like a tsunami breaking all that stands in its path.

But he didn’t say them. Instead, his cheeks trembled slightly and his eyes filled even more.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered so still and so scared that a slight wind could have picked up the letters of each word and floated them away.

“I am just so happy,” B said. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us. Spending time with you reminds me of just how much I love you and how happy we can be together. I just want us to be with each other now and forever.”

And I collapsed into his strong arms that I realized can hold my weight, our dreams, my fears and our future as we continue to figure out exactly what that future looks like… together.

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Lust vs. Romantic Love…304 Days To Fix This

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I just read another fascinating study out of the University of Chicago. Seems that within seconds, just by watching the gaze pattern of participants; researchers could determine whether romantic love or lust was in play. Incredibly, for both male and female subjects, eye-tracking of the face signaled that romantic love was in the air whereas those who fixated on the rest of the body were in it for the lust factor. Good information if you are looking for a mate but what about those who are already married?

On this week-end’s date with my hubby I decided to conduct my own research. The first hours of our date were spent in a movie theater so there was no information gathered there except that except that actor Josh Brolin seemed to want to get it on with Elizabeth Debicki who played Dr. Caroline Mackenzie in Everest. (Spoiler alert-they didn’t get it on nor did anyone else in this desperately sad and A-sexual movie)

Next we went to a local micro-brewery. There we spent time gazing into each other’s eyes and talking about mundane and inconsequential things. About half the time B spent looking at my face, another 1/4 of the time looking at this very shear new top that I was wearing and about 1/4 of the time he spent looking at a gravely sounding 65-year-old man who sang sad songs about drought and crops drying up which were what my panties were doing as I listened to the woes of farmers in the area. I couldn’t tell what part of the singers anatomy B was gazing at….should I be worried is my big question for the researchers?

What I also noticed was that from the bar I received five glances at my face before moving down to the new shirt, two gentlemen staring at my boobs, one woman who licked her lips at me and one man who kept looking at me as if to determine if I was a long-lost relative. I don’t have any idea what this all means except that just the thought of dating at my age scares the crap out of me and I don’t want to do it. EVER AGAIN. I also suspect that if this whole body/face gazing is what dating is about then I am doomed unless I skip the formalities and just blatantly stare at a man’s crotch….I wonder what researchers could determine from that?  And maybe, just maybe,  if I find myself single I might decide to become a research subject. Of course, I would only volunteer for the human sexuality studies…all for the sake of science.