It's Been So Long!

"I admire the way you can talk about these feelings. Down deep I guess I feel the same way you do. When my wife and I had sex, usually she wanted to be on top so she could control the whole thing, protect herself. But she was hot as a firecracker when she got going, and it wasn't as if she held anything back. When she came she'd shriek, at least before we had kids. Once there were children in the house we had to keep quiet so we wouldn't scare them. But the sex was still just as hot. Then it tapered off, and when we did have it there wasn't the same fire in it any more. Her beautiful tits got flabby and finally quite flat, and they seemed to symbolize her whole deflated sex drive. Of course, when she got sick it was all over. By then I'd gone from being her lover to being her care giver. I didn't mind, but still I missed the person she'd been before, the one I fell in love with. But I did everything I could for her, and a lot more than anybody else would have done. After she died I missed her and thought about her often, but I didn't feel as if I'd shortchanged her at all. And now I can deal with her memory as one thing, and my relationship with you as something separate and different, just the way you said. And this time we're both very alive.

"Going back to your first point, about how we're supposed to feel about this relationship. What is this really? What do we call it? An affair? That sounds like something furtive, adulterous. And what do we call each other? Lovers? Can I introduce you to someone as my lover? Seems too personal. Friends? I suppose that's the safest word to use when we talk to other people. And how do we talk to each other about it? Do we say, 'I love you?' Even aside from what we say, what do we feel? Do we love each other? How much of what I feel is about you and how much is it about myself? Are we just clinging to each other so we won't grow old alone? Are we fucking our brains out to keep from thinking about growing old and feeble and dying? Are we trying to use sex to keep us young? Or are we just enjoying ourselves as much as we can while we can, the way you said, before our parts wear out? I think that's what we're doing, and in the process we're enjoying each other's company, but I know I can't answer for you.

"Even though I don't really feel sure of my answers to those questions yet, and no matter what people may think about love and what it is and isn't, and forgetting that I'm no authority on the subject, I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Me too."

Hey, it worked!

We must have fallen asleep around five in the afternoon. When we woke up it was pitch dark, around three in the morning. We'd slept soundly and we woke up gradually, a little disoriented at first. We both had to take a leak pretty urgently and hustled off to the two bathrooms. On our return we converged at the foot of the bed, not sure where we felt like going. I wrapped her in my arms and we just stood there holding each other for maybe a whole minute without moving. We didn't say anything; we didn't need to; our embrace said it all. When we stepped back and looked eye to eye, I said, "We've become committed to each other, haven't we?"

Sherry just nodded in agreement. "Surprised?"

"Sort of. But down deep, this is exactly what I hoped would happen, and I spent so many years needing it that it feels familiar to me. I guess you're my dream girl. But you're very real. How did I get this lucky?"

"By being you, and by being my dream man, the answer to my needs and my desires. I wanted you before I even knew you exist. Don't stop being there for me. Please love me and hold me and protect me and make me feel like a woman. Your woman. Your only woman. Always."

Well, with feelings like those, and with us standing at the foot of the bed, it didn't make any sense to walk to the living room. So we lay down on the bed and made love: long, slow, and gentle, completely aware of each other's feelings. Sherry came twice. I came once, just as she had her second one. And with me still plugged into her cunt and our arms holding on for dear life, we drifted back to sleep. Later, looking back on it, I realized that this wasn't fooling around; it was the consummation of our relationship, just like a wedding night!

From that moment on, we've been together in every sense, completely committed to each other, filling that void that ached within us for so long. Funny thing, though: we never did move in together. I still have my house, and she has hers. Sherry comes to visit me and I go to visit her, and the length of our stay is seldom prearranged. Even the dogs have accepted the arrangement, and feel as much at home at her house as at mine. There've been times when we went to pay her an overnight visit and stayed for a week. We're free spirits, and we come and we go as it feels right to us. When we're together we do whatever we feel like. And having two homes means that even though we are completely open to each other and closer than any other couple I know, we still have our own space and are free to pursue our own interests, live our own lifestyles. By liberating each other from a life of prolonged mourning we have given each other the gift of independence, and we have become more complete individuals by becoming a complete couple. Strange how that worked out.

What prompted me to write this is the fifth anniversary of our first date, that first time we met face to face. Looking back over all that time, I can see that we're still the same people. Our devotion is still complete, and deep, and constant. Nothing has changed since that extended, unconventional date. It still feels wonderful to love and be loved; and we're still happy and fulfilled. One of these days we might even make it to Angus.

Oh, in case you were wondering, the sex is still great!