I'm retired and I haven't had to button down with a tie in over six wonderful years.
My wife hasn't kissed me in about twelve.
I never lose hope, though. She tells me she loves me several times a day, sometimes she even says it with a smile. Betty isn't inclined toward physical contact which unfortunately includes kissing.
The kids are grown and live out of town so I guess she's also a little bit out of practice.
Years and about 45 pounds ago I had the "opportunity" to cheat on my wife with a really nice gal from the office. (Don't worry about this indiscreet confession, Betty never reads my stuff anyway). I remember the struggle I went through at the time and how the hemispheres of my body were in a constant state of war.
Betty, of course, knew nothing of my conflicts. To her our lack of intimacy was simply a matter of course. Betty was a veteran of the Women's Movement and saw sex as a form of submission.
I too see sex as submission - an elevated and reciprocal choreography of consent - which is precisely why I was so terribly divided at the time. A man simply can't live on "I love you's" and I was painfully torn between my loyalty and my loins.
I let the opportunity pass, which was just as well because I most likely would have gotten caught. The whole episode was instructive because it gave me the ability to see myself not only as a deeply flawed middle-aged guy with a gut but as someone interesting, vital and even masculine.
It's funny how love contains such a strong element of revulsion though I don't think it really has to be that way. I still adore my Betty with the same ardor and the same devotion that I did on our wedding day and the fact that she's indifferent to me is simply her loss.
To live is to crave and denial is simply a form of existential defilement. "To live without passion is to live a life in half" is how Micah Carpentier described it in his memoir Mi Lucha con Cordura and I think that's doubly true for me.
Years and about 45 pounds ago I had the "opportunity" to cheat on my wife with a really nice gal from the office. (Don't worry about this indiscreet confession, Betty never reads my stuff anyway). I remember the struggle I went through at the time and how the hemispheres of my body were in a constant state of war.
I too see sex as submission - an elevated and reciprocal choreography of consent - which is precisely why I was so terribly divided at the time. A man simply can't live on "I love you's" and I was painfully torn between my loyalty and my loins.
I let the opportunity pass, which was just as well because I most likely would have gotten caught. The whole episode was instructive because it gave me the ability to see myself not only as a deeply flawed middle-aged guy with a gut but as someone interesting, vital and even masculine.
It's funny how love contains such a strong element of revulsion though I don't think it really has to be that way. I still adore my Betty with the same ardor and the same devotion that I did on our wedding day and the fact that she's indifferent to me is simply her loss.
To live is to crave and denial is simply a form of existential defilement. "To live without passion is to live a life in half" is how Micah Carpentier described it in his memoir Mi Lucha con Cordura and I think that's doubly true for me.
Betty, my cheeks are still as smooth as glass.
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