I was raised to think sex outside of commitment like marriage was risky and devaluating. I didn’t abide by that archaic philosophy, though if I had abstained, I would have saved myself more than penance a few times. Now, my desires and needs are very different from those of my 30s when I was married: I’m not looking for the father of my children.
Any man in my life is one I wholeheartedly appreciate and want to listen to, laugh with, love on, sit in stillness next to, and genuinely do things for because I like him and want him around. He brings something into my life that makes it more vibrant and interesting.
He recognizes and appreciates me as both a friend and a woman. I already know who I am and what I bring to a relationship, and that should be reflected in his behavior and how he looks at me, how he treats me, and how he makes me feel. He doesn’t need me, and I don’t need him, but we want each other.
And that’s rich.
It’s rich like the creamy froth of your late-morning latte after 4 hours of rest and a panged drive away from your lover’s house. It’s filled with the salty taste of post-coital intimacy after a takeout night coupled with luxurious wine. It’s enveloped in the warm musk of two bodies appreciating each other for hours, forgetting about headaches and heartaches and the spaces in between.
That’s rich.
Post-marital sex can be as disappointing as the labored and prescriptive intimacy of common bedfellows; the same infrequency of opportunity…the pent-up hunger…the disappointment of misalignment and misgivings…
Yet, we are enticed back in, desperate with optimism. Our strategy? We play the numbers game. We invest. We risk. We gamble. We hope.
Why? Because we need. We need to be touched and felt, tasted and savored, seen and wanted, and sometimes, well, oftentimes, spent.
So, we go there.
That’s rich because of the cost.
There’s always a cost.
And the more years we’ve invested, the greater our bank account. I wonder, at my age now, how much do I have to invest?
Now I’m home, alone and missing the person I’d rather be with who has his own crosses to bear: indecision and fear. Or he’s just not that into me. Regardless, his portfolio is divested beyond my measure (ex-wives, kids, a new business, etc.). He appears to have little interest in equity securities.
I’m taking stock. Like the forces of the market, our situationship rattles from outside influences of supply and demand, performance, “investor” sentiment, and even the strain of economic conditions.
As any wise investor, I monitor negativity, poor performance, and disappointing returns. My confidence slides when I perceive instability in his level of interest in “us.”
This man is receiving a loan without even paying towards the principal. And so we have not only a relationship that has depreciated, but also a lack of appreciation. A poor return. Our future often looks like all futures: He can hedge because he believes I am low-risk: He can trust in my consistency and value. Or he can stick with options or alternative investments, which offer greater diversification with greater risk.
I’m also over-allocated.
What have I invested? Time. Money. Emotions. Dreams.
The market can turn on a dime, and at some point, competition may entice me to exchange. I may be inclined to trade for something of greater security. I appreciate the interest, and I’m absolutely closer to retirement.
Cheers to the Bull.
