Pangs

I have been bothered as of late. Well, not bothered as such, nor if I was honest, as of late. I am not myself and I haven't been for some time. I can't quit thinking about love. Anytime I'm not concentrating on the job at hand or there isn't some other pressing matter (e.g. going to the bathroom, eating, extinguishing a small kitchen fire, etc.) I find myself thinking about love. The music at work is no help. Without exception, almost every song is about finding or losing love. There is one that complains of buying something that the singer can't afford but it is under the assumption that this is for a loved one and not for himself. Regardless, I am surrounded by other peoples loves and I find it more than a little disconcerting.

Not too long ago I overheard my boss describe in detail the way she delivered oral sex to her husband and how he described it as "okay, but not the best he had ever had". In no way did I ever want to picture my boss in such a manner. When we were alone, I explained how he lied about that and other things too. It was his idea of a pep talk I explained. She gave me a quizzical look and left it at that. I felt fortunate.

It isn't this kind of love that I keep thinking about. I keep thinking of my wife. I'm sure lots of husbands, when pressed, give this same answer, but not me. My thoughts wander to her at all hours of the day and night. I wonder about her day and the particulars of what happened. I wonder about her mood and influences. I'm curious if her lunch was any good or if traffic was a problem to and from work. I worry.

Not too very long ago, we went through a bad patch and she suggested that we get a divorce. I was devastated. She broke my heart. I have never been more hurt in my existence. I was crushed. We worked things out and get along just fine now but I can't seem to lose the feeling that at any time I'm going to be booted out the door. It is a palpable fear I can't put to rest.

She means everything to me. She is the one who taught me what love was. I would be lost without her, but I can't quit thinking of her, day or night, waking or sleeping, good day or bad. She is with me always and nothing else seems all that important. I've taken to buying her jewelry, much more than I can afford, but somehow it seems like the least I can do to hold on to the one tangible bit of love that the world has left for me. At night, in bed, she reaches out and holds my hand and it makes all the rotten stuff of everyday fade in the distance. The warmth of her hand reassures me that all is right in the universe and tomorrow is going to be a grand day. She means the world to me and to say anything less would be a lie. I can't live without her and it hurts still to know that at one point she considered throwing me away.

I revel in the fact that we are past that but it is a specter that haunts me still. I live in dread of the day she changes her mind and I am consigned to the scrap heap like a Ford Tempo after a fender-bender. As corny as it sounds, I long for her. At one point in my life I swore I would never, ever, use the word yearn, but the fact of the matter is, I do for her.

I know in my heart of hearts that I will never know peace without her. If fate exists, then ours are intertwined and life without her would be poor indeed.

The rotten thing is, she is going to read this and scoff, poo-poo, and downplay the whole thing. "You are such a romantic! Just a sentimental old fool! Shut up and lump it you dick." The rotten thing is, she's two-thirds right.

Doc