The best part about being married is not dating. I’m not one for the hunt. I’m not one for stalking, pouncing, gutting, cleaning and *then* consuming. So to speak. I’d like mine brought to me in bed like eggs over easy, wheat toast and orange juice. And a rose on the side. Not that it ever happened that way. I do feel like Stephen was just handed to me. It was too easy. And it’s not supposed to be difficult, right?
I have spent the day thinking about the hunt. And thinking about how, one year ago today was the last time we had sex. Not that anyone wanted to know that. I was at a friend’s house this afternoon and happened to mention it in a passing, smarting off kind of way. Her husband said “How can you remember that? I couldn’t tell you the last time I took a dump!” I remember it because I remember thinking that our times together like that were numbered. I didn’t know it would be the last time of course. But I remember thinking that it wouldn’t be long before I was on my own. So to speak.
It is soon to be 10 months without him. And all I can think about today is how it’s been one year since I have been touched. So to speak. And I think about how it’s the longest I’ve ever gone without some kind of nookie since that fateful day in November of 1993 in the all-girls dorm with my very first (and, really, only other) love, hoping to God that my lame-ass roommate didn’t show up and ruin our loft-romp.
And then it makes me wonder about all the “could’ve beens” and “wonder what would happen ifs”. It makes me wonder if there’s someone out there wondering whatever happened to me. Someone that someday I will run into again on Facebook or at a class reunion or at church or at the YMCA (which, I totally intend to join this fall). It could happen, right? Or not.
I was so happy to get engaged. I was so happy to be out of the shallow end of the dating pool. It was like holding in a fart on a long car trip and finally getting to open air. Long, noisy and fragrant. So to speak.
And to think that I almost turned him down, one year ago tonight. I was tired and edgy. My guts hurt from the gallstones that I didn’t know that I had. And I almost said no. Like I did on countless other nights. (Which isn’t to say that I never said yes…it just wasn’t often that I was the initiator.) So, if you are reading this and you aren’t me…if you have the means and the opportunity…say yes. For me.