Things are temporary and fickle and they break, wear out, and rot and need replacing. Including me.
This chair I’m sitting on is going to wear out. The computer screen is going to go black, this disk or chip in the computer is going to suffer errors and offer me the blue-screen-of-death, I am going to die. I don’t recommend putting faith in anything temporary like that. Especially me.
When I wear out, I’ll be dead. Until I wear out and go into eternity, whatever that means, I wear out at the end of the day when I’m too tired to continue. (Sorry, honey, sucks but it’s true) I may not finish the dishes or get to all the housework you left for me. When I wear out, you’ll need to get yourself another cook and dishwasher. And floor vacuum-er and lawn mower and homework helper and snow shovel-er and chauffeur and whatever else you need from me.
Love is supposed to be for a lifetime, but people fuck that up all the time. Divorce, affairs, immaturity, foolishness… Shit happens, I guess. But when you promise “until death us do part,” I think it should mean just that. That’s one reason why I have stayed this long. I’ve grown up and I think understand temptation. It’s always watching for a way to get to us, I think. Where’s that weakness in the armor? What I’ve done so far is to try to run away from it. But I do look around me and see what’s out there. And I want more. I want a better return on my investment. Is that wrong?
If you put your faith in me and thought I wasn’t ever going to get a gray hair, you had better go to the store and buy me some hair dye, or I’m going to let you down. If you thought I would always have the energy to meet your needs and do all of the above and then some, and never have needs of my own, you were mistaken, I’m already letting you down. I don’t have energy because I’m depressed and my to-do list is too damn long and time consuming to have time to spend with you after recharging back to human levels. I’m depressed because I don’t have energy. It’s a vicious circle and I want to break out.
For the record, you are changing, and by some worldly standards you aren’t as young or perfect as you were when we met. But to me you are perfect. I look at your changing body and I still see your intense beauty. I love you passionately. When you touch me, which is rare lately, it’s still like fire. When you kiss me, even the hard pecks, I only want more. I want the soft-lipped, hot, demanding passion you offered before.
I listen to your conversation, when you aren’t nagging, and I adore your logic, your intellect, and your emotional side. I look into your eyes and there isn’t another person I feel so connected to. I want to know about things that interest you, still. Your hobbies, your passions, your goals, more than just the next thing on your to-do list. Your “to-do” lists suck the life out of me and leave this empty husk with nothing left that’s worth anything to offer you. And MY “to-do” list just sucks. Can we have a dream list? Like a bucket list of things to do together before one of us is, or both of us are, dead?
I’m going to run out of stamina, when I’ve been at work all day and come home and see the things I should do, things I should fix, things I should process, things I should discard, growing out of my control. I will get discouraged because it’s just so much. There’s a way to re-energize me. I’d like to start with a long weekend where our mission is to re-energize each other. That’s the first item on my dream list.
What happens when we fail each other? I’m afraid it means you don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, we shut each other out. I didn’t start out intending to write this, which means it’s straight out of my heart. There are walls between us. I’ve failed you, I know. I’m sorry I sometimes suck at life and love and being a good man and a good husband. Can God even answer my prayers when the walls are there? (I Peter 3:7-12) I can rage all I want about the way He doesn’t hear me, but maybe it’s because I’m supposed to do something first.
I hope this turns around. I don’t want to end up empty, frustrated and bitter, or worse, finally falling for temptation. Save me. Help me. You’re my only Hope. It’s either you or Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I think he’s busy helping Luke Skywalker’s sister “Princess” Leia. Up for a weekend? I’ll pack the heating pad.