Two of my gal pals recently tied the knot after many years on the single circuit. I guess all the talk of gowns, rings and honeymoons has got me thinking about true love and what that means – or if it means anything at all.
Yes, I have smiled and cooed through the many, many, many pictures of husbands, new homes, pets and everything else the safety of suburbia promises, but I wonder: are they really happy?
Not that many moons ago I listened for hours to these girls go on and on about passion-filled midnight trysts and globe trotting sexcapades with thick-dicked men in fancy Italian sports cars, so bear with me if I question this switch to suburbia. Of course, these saucy relationships usually ended with them singing the eternal “why did he leave me” blues. But on the other hand, the guys they married seem so ho-hum and normal. I mean, are they trading in passion for polite conversation?
Call me crazy, but I guess I am an old romantic. I want to be tongue-tied and swept off my feet. I want my heart to beat a million miles a minute when I see my man turn the corner. Because when all is said and done, and you both get caught up in life and sex goes on the back burner, it’s nice to close your eyes and remember that passion and what it once meant.
I ask you: If you don’t have passion in the first place, how can a relationship survive?