Old Boyfriends

So lately I've been thinking about old boyfriends. As I am a frequent user of Facebook, the idea of getting a look into the lives of those who might have been is just too tempting for this gal! Thus I have become friends with a few (OK, more than a few) old boyfriends.
My definition of boyfriends is pretty loose, pretty much defined as any one I have kissed (and I really just mean kissed) in a non-platonic way more than once in my 31 years. Considering I've only been kissing my Beloved since October 31, 1998, let's just say a few of these former flames have sent me friend requests, and I'll admit, I've searched and friended a few. My curiosity overwhelms me and I just have to know! What do they look like? What kind of jobs do they have? Do they still love the Beastie Boys? Are they bald? Fat? Into NASCAR? Did they marry ugly women? Did their kids inherit their short, stubby fingers and small, squinty eyes?
After having my curiosity quenched I inevitably feel thankful. You read that correctly, thankful. Different qualities from all these previous heartaches (whether mine or theirs) have been thread into the quilt that is who I am. More impressed upon my memories is the likes and dislikes I learned about myself through these relationships. Knowing and unknowing these old boyfriends brought me to the day I met my husband and all the days ever since.
Because of these old boyfriends, I can watch my child play soccer with some expertise, after 2 semesters dating a soccer player, a girl learns a thing or two about the game. I know and love theatre to this day because of some ill-fated forays into dating theatre majors. I would have never learned to Rollerblade or that I really don't like rollerblading had I not fibbed about my rollerblading prowess with a handsome allergy prone fella in high school. The smell of hockey still brings me back to the hot, hairy Italian from my freshman year in college. Sports expertise, theatre knowledge, even some brief kisses from some Ivy Leaguers, don't compare to the first and subsequent kisses from my Beloved.
So yes, I'm thankful for the tears shed, anger felt, cassette tapes recorded in memory of, all the different personality traits I was able to try on throughout the years because the one that fit me best was a hunky football star with a penchant for the country music and I couldn't be happier. Most days.

Corn Dogs

Marriage is cyclical. Sometimes I am amazed (as I have been the past few weeks) with the wonderful, intelligent, handsome, thoughtful, sexy man I married. This week, not so much.
This is a belief I have held for many years. There are moments that the pure joy of being married to this wonderful creature brings me to tears, just not today, or yesterday, or the day before. Tonight he is working late, and I sort of wish he would just stay gone for a day or two. It would be nice to have the opportunity to appreciate him a little bit.
I am not angry with him, he has done nothing different this week than in past weeks, he is still his usual hard-working self, and no it's not "that time of the month." For awhile I just attributed it to the barometric pressure, or some other strange phenomena, but today I've come to the conclusion it's about space. Sometimes a person just needs their own space. I don't know if this is just female thing either, I would imagine men feel that way too, I don't know. When I talk to my husband about these feelings of disconnectedness he maintains he always loves me with all his heart (Gag!)
So to my devoted Rory, I love you, but sometimes your constant back-scratching needs, bed hogging, snooze button punching, cologne overdosing self isn't always a turn on, but most of the time it is.