March 7, 2008

• Romance

  This comment has been in the back of my mind for ten days or so:

  Susu. I have a personal question and, perhaps, I’m boundary crossing. Clinical social workers, such as myself, have been known to nudge a little in areas where they shouldn’t be. But I digress. I’m curious, after all these years, if you still consider yourself romantically involved with greyfox.  Is the spark still there? And if there’s a spark, how would you describe it?  kitkatsplash

  I had no hesitation about answering it, even though I did wonder if she was using romance as a euphemism for sex.  I was a little bit put off by the bullshit about “boundary crossing,” and I do tend to bristle a little when anyone talks about what should or “shouldn’t be.”   Many of my readers know, too, how I feel about the “just curious” line.  Anyhow, the thing that delayed my response was knowing that I couldn’t really begin to explain my relationship with Greyfox unless I talked a little about Mort first.

  So, now that I’ve let Mort out of the closet and everyone not only knows that my husband isn’t the man I married, but might also be able to intuit that our soulmate relationship that has lasted through millennia tends to eclipse any considerations of mere “romance,” I can try to describe our relationship.

  I could describe it in neuroelectrochemical terms.  Helen Fisher might say that we have ridden the neurochemical cascade through sexual attraction and romantic love, into attachment.  This places us in the minority in our culture.  Most couples don’t make it this far, going their separate ways seeking different mates before they grow comfortable with each other.

  I am not inclined to be giddy or giggly over love and romance, and Greyfox is, if it’s possible to be, even less so.  Love is a serious matter for us, and romance is a genre of fiction that we both find rather silly and don’t read.  That said, there are still elements of our relationship that are intensely romantic, and even sexy.  We didn’t lose all of any one of those stages of pair-bonding as we progressed from each to the next.

  We do most of our relating by phone lately.  I, for one, never did get a kick out of phone sex.  During the intensely sexy initial stage of our relationship, when we spoke on the phone about sex, it was usually just to say that we’d be glad when we got into geographical proximity so we could enjoy each other’s company.  In recent times, even when we’re on the move and intent on getting things done, a little sexual spark can ignite from time to time.  He often tells people that he’s married to the smartest and sexiest great-grandma on the planet, so I know the sexy feelings are not all on my side.

  He writes poetry for me, too.   That’s one of the perks of being married to an English major.  He wrote me a sonnet before we ever met, when we were relating entirely by phone and snail mail.  He has written several poems for or about me in the four-plus years of the “new life” we’ve had together since he got clean and sober.  In my opinion, one of the most romantic things he does on a regular basis is to thank me for that new life, either privately or in a public forum such as his blog or an NA meeting.

  Oh, and through harsh trial and error, and jarring feedback when he gave me wildly inappropriate gifts, he has finally learned what kinds of gifts will please me.  That’s no small thing, there.  That he made the effort to learn is very romantic.
  

  • 7:04 pm
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