Talk at the Kitchen Table
What two ordinary people might say
My wife tells me she likes my writing. I suppose it's as easy to feel about that the same way a woman might when their husband tells them they are beautiful; because he has to. Still, I believe she's being honest about it.
One thing she does mention in the LW genre is how that couldn't happen in real life. No matter, George Anderson, Big guy 33, Tx Tall Tales, just to name a very few of the greats, it doesn't matter. "Normal people don't do or say those things." She claims. I disagree, saying, "babe, it's happening EXACTLY like that somewhere on Earth as we speak about it." She shakes her head and gives me a look of pity. That doesn't bother me at all. We've been in love since we were 13 and we spent 32 years apart due to crazy circumstances (yes, I did write and publish a book about it. The fact that she holds love, trust and respect on such a high pedestal makes me love her even more. So, this one is for her, and the rest of you that find the dialogue between these couples somewhat 'unbelievable'.
Standing at the sink, drying our dinner dishes with, Deandra (Dee for short) washing, I was marveling at how beautiful she is, even after all these years. She turned her head and gave me an endearing look, that said 'I love you'. Then, Dee says, "Honey can we sit and talk for a bit?" Well, we always talked, so this wasn't new, but the tone of her voice is.
"Sure, baby. Let me go splash some water on my face and change into something more comfortable, okay?" Dee nods approval.
Upstairs, I start thinking about this talk and what it could entail. Dee and I met when we were 13 years old. Roller skating, of all places. I was supposed to be on a date with her cousin, and she was supposed to be her wingman (or was it wing-woman?).
It didn't work out too well for the cousin. We were a couple almost immediately, and stayed that way through school. At 18 we got a little stupid, embracing our perceived adulthood and freedom, and decided to take a break. She got pregnant after just one time with another guy, and we didn't even know until the fall, when we'd already committed ourselves to each other.
Two husbands for her, two wives for me, some kids for both of us, and 32 long years separated us until she found me on social media. What was intended to be catching up and hearing about the other's lives, became the same connection as we had all those years ago. It took six months before I saw her, as she was finishing her divorce and I was ending an engagement. Another year before she moved cross-country to live with me, and five more months until a very simple beach wedding.
There really is no other woman for me. I've tried. They can't compete, and yes, I did compare. She feels the same. Still, once her youngest flew the nest, things between us slowed down over time. Age, chemical imbalances and general malaise can do that to the best of us. Still we were fairly fit, she walked over seven miles a day on her job, and we were intimate almost once every week.
For the first twelve years anyway. Earlier, when menopause showed its ugly head, Dee was not in the mood. But she came back with a roar. Unfortunately, it was at a time where I was on the downslope. The blue and yellow pill helped, but there were side effects that really interrupted my day-to-day. That meant for the last two plus years, we were in a routine. No more spontaneity, rather scheduled once per week sex. And then it only took an upset stomach or tiredness to nix that.
Many could probably give us some tips. The thing is, we already know a lot of them. The tips, that is. To say we more than made up for the 32 years, during those first several, would be an understatement. We both craved the spontaneity, though and saying, "Okay, dear, it's Friday night," just wasn't very much fun. Of course it served as a relief, and we were both fully engaged, yet it was obvious that our days of tearing up the sheets were waning.
That is fine with me. In every other way, Dee and I gel. I am Devon by the way, Devon Peterson. We have fun doing just about anything, and considering our past, our sex lives were definitely not regretful. With plenty of other activities, clubs, our kids and grandchildren, we remained busy.
I came down the stairs, grabbing a beer and taking a seat at our kitchen table. Lisa is looking a little unsettled, even withdrawn if I'm good enough to read her expression. She has a hard cider which is surprising for a weeknight. I decide to stay quiet and let her start.
"Devon, you know I love you with everything I am," she says it as a statement. "I have some questions I want to ask you, and if you would please let me get it all out, then we can discuss it, alright?"
I nodded, taking a sip of the cold brew.
"Well, you know we've had a marvelous sex life. More than I could ever have hoped for, actually. On top of that, you are a wonderful husband; so loving and attentive. I feel your love inside me, every time you wrap your arms around me. Every time you do it for no reason at all. I only hope I'm as successful demonstrating my love for you."
The thing is, Dee never puts this much effort into 'dressing up' an upcoming conversation, so in a way, I'm already tipped off that this is huge. It's huge, and it's bad. I need the breaks she's taking to catch her breath, and my own silence to think. My brain is already in problem solving mode, like when I'm blindsided by a customer letting me know they're suddenly going to the competition.
"Anyway, I'm wondering how you might feel about my going out, once in a while? Not with you, not together, on my own."
She was sitting there waiting. I guess I would need to go with whatever I had. My wits didn't have time to catch up. "Are you asking if you came go somewhere without me, like to the grocery, or like a movie night?"
"Not like the grocery, Devon. Like a date night."
Oh, I see. "Oh, like a date with some of your girlfriends from work? Would you be gathering at someone's home, or going out for drinks and dancing, that sort of thing?"
She hadn't started it correctly, and I could see in her face, she's already trying to fix things. "Probably dinner sometimes, most times. Sometimes dancing and no, not with the girls."
She is working hard to make sure it seeps in. She still wasn't saying it, but the implication was out there now.
"You want to go out alone? Why would you do that? You know I would always go out with you even if it was something you liked and I didn't."
"Not alone, Devon."
Oh, I see, better. "Okay, not with me, and not with any girlfriends, plus you just said 'not alone', so what are we talking about here?" I wasn't about to provide the answer, she would need to say the words.
She sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "With a man, Devon, okay. A man."
"Oh, I see." This is the extent to which I'm going to vocalize right now. Some hundred things I could ask right now are swimming around like tadpoles in my head. I resist that temptation for the moment. I need to gather more intel, before I speak.
