Al is being very nice to me lately. He has also been more interested in getting next to me. I notice these things even though I am way past menopause. When you’ve been married almost 29 years and your husband starts acting like days of yore, it makes you go hmmmm. Like a few weeks ago. “After golf…” he said. Whenever it’s “After” anything without the thing being named, the thing is sex. Later in the week, he reminded me again. “We have a date tomorrow.”
I looked at him. Really? Sex is a date? Since when? So I said “We don’t have a date, we have a booty call.”
Usually I make him laugh when I say things like that, and I really was teasing, but he got all sputtery and concerned.
“What do you mean?”
“Well. You’re golfing with (male) Golf Partner. Then you’re going out to dinner with GP. Then you’re coming home to have sex with me …”
“You girls come to dinner,” he said.
I was good with that. I didn’t mean to manipulate him in to taking me out, but hey, sometimes we do meet the guys after golf and I love being waited on. I think every ex-waitress does.
Then, a few days later, he was like “Tomorrow night …” Again with the unfinished sentence and the significant look. And I’m thinking, man this is crazy.
A few days ago, I told Al about an article I read in “Psychology Today” by Virginia Rutter, who claims that men who share in household chores have more sex. Then yesterday he cleaned the bathroom. I mean it is gleaming. But he does that every week and has since forever. He also washes windows. And grills. But then he sits at the table like a king while I bring him his dinner, his fork, his knife, his napkin. Once in awhile, I’ll forget the silverware if I have a couple of complicated dishes going and he will get himself a fork and dig in. In all the years we’ve been together, he never brings one for me. That used to really hurt my feelings, but I laugh about it now.
He cleans the bathrooms, the job I hate the most.
Contrary to Rutter’s research, our sex life has not always been this hot. Sure the first five years. Okay the first ten. But after that? Good phases and bad phases and things get really complicated with menopause. If you’re not there, you don’t want to know.
So, this dress. In the picture. My mother bought it for me. She still loves buying me dresses. I tried it on and it’s that comfy stretchy t-shirt material but a little low cut for me except as a house dress. I don’t normally do much cleavage. I have a little beachy top I put over this just to walk to the mailbox or water my plants. But it’s so comfy. And Al likes it. You might think, well, Cindy, there’s your answer. But, nope, it’s not the dress.
It’s not the weight loss either, since that’s been a gradual thing since about this time last year. And I have a ways to go before I’m the weight I was when he married me.
Not the dress, not the weight loss, not the housework. I finally had to ask my randy man what the heck was going on. “The blonde hair,” he said.
And everything clicked into place. Most often, the correct answer is the obvious answer.