Humanity narrows the lead
Lesbians are not supposed to have sex that much. Except for the ones on the L-Word, of course. The rest of us are subject to the mythic LBD (Lesbian Bed Death), destined to go from first date infatuation to u-haul cohabitation to complete identity merge/long-term platonic attachment in a matter of months.
So why is it that I am still passionately in love with my girlfriend after 22 years of flirting and 13 as a common-law wife?
Well, for starters, she’s hot. I mean, like really out-of-my-league hot. You know those moments when you’re sitting in the car and a really beautiful woman walks by and you notice her, and then you feel like shit for noticing her, and you tell yourself, “Get a grip, Asshole, you have a wife and kid at home,” and then you realize that it’s your girlfriend? Happens to me all the time.
And she’s brilliant. It’s not always apparent when I am re-arranging the kitchen cabinets for the 47th time (“Honey, the small plastic containers go inside the big ones“) or helping her with the computer (“No, Sweetie, the .doc does not mean it’s a medical file.”). But she is a brilliant psychologist, a natural teacher, and a visionary leader.
And she’s funny. She’s lived with me for 13 years now without a single attempt on my life. That takes a sense of humour in the extreme. She can laugh at herself (she just did reading that last paragraph) and she cracks me up all the time. Sometimes she even gets me to take myself a little less seriously, which is no easy task.
I could go on, but my lunch hour won’t, and I am not being paid to blog. (Which is probably good for our credit rating.) Let me wrap up with this: If Humanity can produce a woman like my wife, it deserves this week’s point, and today seems like the right day to give it. Happy Birthday, My Love.
The Apocalypse: 16.5