As some of my most faithful readers will recall, June 7 is a big day in our household. It is my daughter's birthday (22) as well as my sister's (ask her) and also our wedding anniversary, and this year it's our 25th. As fairly uptight WASPs, Mary and I are not good at public gushings of emotion, but we do love each other, have been through a lot together and have no plans to go elsewhere.
A friend who went through a divorce a few years back once told me about some of the sex he'd been having with his new girlfriend, who looked attractive in a picture. He told me of one day when they basically had sex off and on all day and he had three orgasms and basically collapsed in exhaustion at the end of it all.
It sounded awesome, reminding me of my early days of getting it on back in my late teens and early twenties. And middle-aged men do definitely idealize those days, and why not? Those were good times. But the fact is we're not in our teens or twenties anymore, we're in our fifties. For me, I am able to pretend I'm younger than I am by jumping over the tennis net in the middle of each match just to show myself that I can, and just by playing lots of singles (though this joint pain that is becoming suspiciously constant in my elbows and hands is beginning to hint of something like arthritis, which I will certainly not Google and much less mention to a doctor, at least before my fast-approaching annual check up).
Other than that, I pretty much know who I am. Though certainly I could continue to make progress on eating more like a sensible 56-year old, and lord knows where I'd be in that process without Mary.
And so, on with the day. I think I hear the birthday girl moving around downstairs. Time to get ready for my 10 am team conference call, joy of joys.
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