As expected, I’ve been reminiscing about the life I had with my wife before she died. We had so many good times together.
I think about our early years together, when I was a sex-crazed young man and every date was a passionate affair.
I think about our first decade together, when we were fully immersed in raising the kids – family dinners every night, helping with homework, chaperoning events, baseball games, dance recitals, and watching movies while eating popcorn snuggling together on the sofa on cold winter Friday nights. We went on cheap vacations like day trips to State parks and splurged once a year for a week long summer vacation in a budget motel.
I think about our second decade together, after Liz had gone off to college and Zack went to live with his father. We focused on our careers, rapidly moving up the ladder in our jobs. We bought our first house. We got a dog and then a second dog to keep him company. We moved to Florida. We went out to the movies and dinner every weekend and often got takeout during the week. We took summer beach vacations to Hilton Head Island and Lauderdale-By-The-Sea, basking in the sun, reading, swimming, drinking and dining out.
Our third decade brought difficult times. My wife’s health issues multiplied and compounded. My work, while quite lucrative at times, was all consuming and stressful. And yet, we still managed a pretty great life. We walked the dogs every evening holding hands. We rescued some cats. We moved several times. We fixed up our houses. We ate takeout most nights and watched a ton of movies on our big flatscreen TV instead of going out as much.
Despite our numerous differences, my wife and I were a great couple. She was super hot and spent a lot of time maintaining her beauty with hair and nail salon visits, makeup and fashion. I was young and never really thought I was attractive. Less concerned with fashion, I spent my time exercising to maintain decent weight and fitness levels. We were both high energy and liked to do active things together. We both loved animals. We both were nurturing. We enjoyed caring for each other.
Although she would have never considered herself an intellectual – she was. I realize now how I took this for granted. Deep philosophical discussions about society, people, love, history and politics were as much a part of our normal routine as doing chores, exercising or going to work.
I loved her from the moment I met her until the day she died. I love her still. And I never had any doubt that she loved me.
And so this morning as I reminisced, I thought about my complete lack of interest in dating, partnering or marrying someone else.
No wonder I’m apathetic about this.
My wife was special. More special than any woman I ever dated in my life. The thought of even attempting to build a new relationship with another woman simply doesn’t interest me.
Before I met Ellen, I always wanted to have a girlfriend and often did have one. I didn’t like the process of first dates and getting to know someone, but I loved being in a relationship with a woman. With Ellen I had it all.
Maybe I’m too old. Maybe I’m too settled in my routine. Maybe I’m too happy with my memories.
Perhaps one day I’ll meet a woman who will relight that fire inside me. I haven’t yet. Until then, I won’t just date “anyone”.