My Wife is Hot! (or Conjugal Relations, Part II)

     Deanne is sexy, gorgeous, beautiful, fun, alive, and loving. At least I think so.

     Not that I always think that way. Other times I think she acts lazy, sloppy, argumentative, irritating, and demanding. I try not to dwell on such thoughts.

     We've been married eighteen years and the passion I feel for her is still there alive and intense, so for a fifty-four year old, I'm better than okay, I think.

     (Through the years, I've talked to so many people who've confessed, complained about, or let be known their ongoing celibacies, so that I get the impression huge swaths of marriages go without or with very little or with much less than at least one of the pair would prefer. Although such celibacy may not be the main cause of the steep fifty percent divorce rate, it is certainly symptomatic of widespread marital discontent, for doubtless happy couples will tend to seek to express their loves through occasional to frequent acts of sexual intimacy up to and including “all the way”, age-, health-, and emotional-related and other such limitations notwithstanding.)

     Deanne, ever since she got a full-time office job late last year, has been more attentive to her appearances—the clothes she wears, make up (always tastefully minimalist; she's a natural beauty), meal portion control, and occasional exercise. She's blessed because when she makes even minor efforts, the positive results show huge: her curves become oh-so-righter in all the right places, her complexion improves, and she looks ten years younger than her already youthful-looking forty-five.

     Speaking of which, forty-five used to be (and still may be?) the cut-off age of a woman for me at which I will refuse to gaze at her with eager, searching eyes no matter how much she flirts, bends over, or whatever (Deanne excepted). This mental block (or whatever it is) dates back over a decade, though the cut-off age has risen over time. (When I was an early teen, anyone in their twenties was ancient—bleah! How times change...)

     We've mellowed some with age, so some of our fiery tempest drag-out fights have cooled and shortened some, which has helped with our marital felicity. Even more positive, due to our years together:

     We now trust each other better.

     Know each other better.

     Are less prone to beat up on each other.

     Do more kind-hearted things for each other because we want to.

     Not that we're perfect. We do petty, selfish, and hurtful things far too often. But these are largely offset by the small things that count most. We know what we are really like and the things that make us go “click” when we share them in good will. These include:

     Watching a sunset on a beach.

     Sharing a simple meal of home made comfort food.

     Going for a walk with pleasant conversation.

     Asking nicely by saying, “Please.”

     Being appreciative and saying, “Thank you.”

     Lavishing compliments freely.

     Holding hands, hugging, kissing, or whatever it is the other likes with a giving, generous heart.

     Saying, “I love you.”

     Praying aloud for each other for hurts that need mending; joy restored at work or church; family ties that need healing; God's peace, joy, and rest.

     Helping out around the house.

     Disciplining the kids.

     Playing with the kids.

     Discussing how the day went.

     Valuing the other more than anyone else.

     Are these things really so difficult? If yes, no wonder so many struggle with undesired celibacy, which really is a cry for greater intimacy. I suppose our marriage would be that way, too, if we didn't enjoy doing these few “minimums.”

     Really, we're not trying to build a Great Wall of China, discover Einstein's grand unification theory, or establish world peace—those would be difficult. All we're trying to do is live decent, respectful lives. And it's not like we're even that successful. When things are hitting one hundred percent—that's rare! It's more like we try. Sometimes we do better than others. Meanwhile, tiny victories add up to big rewards. Wash dishes? Bing! Hang laundry? Bing! Say, “Good Morning”? Bing! Before we know it, we're both starting to feel pretty good (and maybe even a little frisky. Not that this even happens that often. But ample enough at our ages. After all, it's the quality, not the quantity, that counts.)