And blue balls

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So, as I’ve written here before, my wife passed away from ALS in November 2009. I read this post from Miracle a few minutes ago. It sent me off on something of a mental/spiritual/existential adventure.

See, my wife was a student of philosophy. She held a bachelor’s degree and had even studied it at the graduate level. She was a deep thinker and as well read as any person I’ve ever known. And she loved to discuss it with me.

I’m decidedly NOT a philosopher. But I am something of an agnostic, open minded, spiritual traveler. And I love mental gymnastics! We meshed pretty well when it came to puzzling out the nuances of the human condition. Many’s the night we’d wait for the kids to go to bed. We’d have plans to do what lovers do, only to get enmeshed in a deep conversation. Eventually, it would be too late to think about sex anymore.

That probably wasn’t a bad thing. I mean, we did have four kids after all. If we had done it any more often, we probably would have a town named after us.

What kept us together wasn’t the sex. Not in anyone’s wildest imagination. And as an aside, it wasn’t generally all that wild anyway. After a few years, sex is sex. It’s the bond that holds the meaning. We had that bond, all the time. Even when, for one reason or another, we weren’t having sex.

No, the intellectual sparring we did was the glue in our relationship. We never fought. Even when we disagreed, we held respect for each other over the need to win.

That’s the key to a healthy relationship. I don’t mean deep conversations or not fighting. I mean the respect. And a common bond outside of the bedroom. They are the foundation of any good relationship.

Still, I do miss the sex.

But I miss the deep, mysterious, intellectual bond we shared far more. When I say she was my soul mate, it’s because she wasn’t just the woman I married and loved. We connected on some level way, way far above the physical plane. I don’t know where that is, or even what it is. But I know that’s where real love begins.

And the blue balls? You gotta admit, that got your attention.

Thanks for reading.

Written by

father, motorcyclist, old retired guy who’s just a little lost on a blue marble corkscrewing its way to oblivion

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