My wife and I were classic high school sweethearts. We went to the football games, the prom, and all the stuff kids did at the time. Neither one of us drank or did drugs. We didn’t smoke. But perhaps the worst thing of all was that we had no idea about sex. Of course I knew that part A went into part B, and Dad’s pile of old Playboy magazines kinda painted a picture of where part B was.
Of course there was a lot of ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ kinda thing, but never ever did we go as far as to have sex. Looking back, I think we were so afraid of our parents and if the unthinkable happened, we’d be disowned.
Then to add gas to the fire, we married too soon. I was 20, she was 22. Neither one of us had sown any wild oats, and for the rest of my life, I’ve regretted that.
When we said the I dos’ we were so inept at sex we weren’t able to consummate the marriage for a few months. Maybe I was too anxious, or she was scared beyond reason.
When we were finally able to do it, after all the time we waited, it was lackluster. Is that all it’s about? Seriously, we waited for this?
There are two types of sex. There’s the type that’s a bed full of sweat, flushed bodies and glowing skin. Bed sheets clenched in fists. That animal lust that’s buried deep down in each of us.
The other kind is romantic sex. Tender kisses, whispers of I love you in her ear, a glancing brush across her breast, and a world of ‘I love yous’ that never ends. Slowly undressing your wife. The hugs and touching that only a man and woman can do. I truly enjoyed this. It’s such a shame she didn’t.
The marriage lasted 14 years. We’d have sex four, maybe six times a year. She didn’t like it, and told me so. She said the entire act was dirty, and only ‘did it’ because her mother said it was her wifely duty.
Remember what I said about those wild oats? I ended up in a steel mill and worked the swing shift. When I’d be on the 3–11 shift, she found a great deal of interest in my best friend. So much so that I caught them together. No, it wasn’t in bed. To this very day, she swears she and him never had sex. I don’t know… The only thing I do know about her is I can always tell when she’s lying—her lips move.
The odd thing is that our marriage did produce a child. A complete surprise to both of us as we certainly weren’t having sex on a regular basis.
A bit off topic… She left me for my best friend when our son was about six. She had (s) so much hate towards me (and I don’t know why) that when our son took his life at 22, she waited two days to tell me. (we live maybe 10 miles away from each other) That day we buried Christopher, was the last time she and I talked.
It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that we used to neck in the drive-in and play kissy face way back when, and how years later, she turned into such a hateful human being.
I’m not saying I’m a perfect person. I’m not. I have faults, lots of them. Who doesn’t? Nor was I the perfect husband. We all have flaws. But by God, yes, I wish I could step into a time machine and redo those years so long ago. The things I’d change. My entire concept of my life would be erased. And maybe, just maybe, I’d remember that girlfriend and those kisses in the drive-in with a smile on my face, instead of the pain I carry in my heart for a lost love and my dead son…