With “Forever in Love” by Kenny G. playing in the background, I lie on my bed with tears swelling in my eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.  It’s beautiful.”

“Oh.  But why are you crying?”

“I don’t know.  I am wondering what would have been if we were more of the romantic type of couple.”

“Oh.”

“But we’re not wired that way, as a couple, I mean; and for myself, as myself, I never really got the chance to find out.  But I can lay here, listen and cry.  I cry because it moves my soul and I would love to live out my fantasies of expressing myself just like this music.”

First off, the above is an imagined conversation I had tonight with, I guess, myself, or not myself.  It could’ve been a real one, but if it were, it wouldn’t have been this one.  The music was real and probably instigated this whole thing.  sigh.  We know we love each other, we are secure with that… but is that supposed to be enough?  I’m not so sure.  I am secure in this relationship and I would never do anything to destroy that trust we have in each other, no way.  Is there anything wrong with having romantic fantasies about ones’ own husband?  Nope, and that’s definitely sexy in a marriage; but I don’t think it’s a good thing if they go unfulfilled… or at least trying to, or at least just go through the motions and let the person experience it for real.  But if that cannot be, I must think and possibly over analyze.

What I think is that priorities for relationships change.  That’s for sure.  I’ve seen it with my dad after the passing of my mom, and I saw it in myself even before him, after my divorce.  The freaking irony of it all is that the exact type of person I was attracted to back in the nineties, would’ve been totally wrong for me in this, my present, the life I am living now.  I married serious.  I used to be attracted to funny guys with an insane funny personality, but smart, intelligent, possibly even play an instrument, be in a band or something.  I had found one such person.  His name was Dave.  For the moment I forget his last name, but that’s probably for the best, because I’m writing about him now.  He was a huge hulk of a man, very tall, long hair, looked like a biker dude, but very shy, playful and gentle.  He was super smart and we’d play word games back and forth over aol chat.  I love word games, puns, rhymes, etc. He was a bass player in a band, and I also forgot that name.  He turned me on to Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s “Blue on Black” and I had even learned how to play it on the guitar. When I lived in NJ, I actually drove down to Smithville, single girl on a Sunday, to see his band play in a bar.  I only had enough spare change to buy one drink.  I got along so well with his friends, and we really, REALLY clicked.  Oh crap, did we really click.  At the end of the night, or afternoon, because of the drive I had back, we stood close to each other, with me standing on some steps, while he stood at the base of them… THAT’S just how tall, but we never kissed.  We stood there for a long time, but he was too shy to even kiss me. Damn! Wow!  I left, then he never invited me back.  We kept in touch, though.  I knew that he was a family man, so if anything had progressed with us, it would’ve been toward marriage and a family.

Well, two years later, out of the blue he invites me down for the weekend so he could cook a gourmet dinner for me.  We made plans, I even started to accumulate little culinary gifts for a basket for his cooking pleasure.  I also knew that if I went down there, we would “do it”, and consummate the build up of desires and emotions that forever had occupied the outskirts of our correspondence.  We had little scenarios of romantic nights under the stars.  Anyway, right about then I started talking to my now DH.  We had a few emails and telephone conversations.  We made arrangements to meet, just on the Saturday of my weekend away.  For those of you who don’t know, and that’s got to be ALL of you, DH has incredible timing.  Always working out no matter if it looks to be a bust all along… Always.  SO.  I was in a dilemma because I knew that DH’s goal was to eventually get serious, leading to marriage.  I also knew that my friend in Smithville had no future, professionally.  I mean, he had no goals and that threw up a red flag, it always had but I never had to contend with that.  My newfound morals at the time forbade me to go on with this weekend.  I had already had it in my mind that it would be cheating, but it really would not have been, technically. Maybe I just didn’t want to have to disclose that if anything got serious, and I knew that I would have to, and I knew that the chronology would not be be optimal, DH is a math major for God’s sake!

Big exhale… Wow that feels better.  But do you see how priorities change?  They always do and I think too many people don’t recognize that and just go with it.  Everything happens for a reason.  First husband divorced me because he felt himself calm down a bit from being this outrageous self centered ego maniac  and he didn’t like it.  He felt that I was the reason, so he had to get rid of me.  Problem solved.  Of course it’s not as simple as that as a marriage never really crumbles because of just one person; but basically, that was the root of it.   Wow… marriage breaks up because the man finds a bit of peace and it throws him for a loop….

DH is the love of my life, for better or for worse…. mostly for an abundance of bliss and I really mean that.  We have something that nobody else has, nor should they.  I’ve made my choice.

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