Posted by: Sarah | August 11, 2009

Wuv. Twoo Wuv.

The kind you clean up with a mop and bucket.

Been thinking about it alot lately. Both the physical kind commonly called lust and the true, romantic love such as exists between my husband and me. Mostly the lust part. One does not necessarily preclude the other, of course. My husband can make me hot enough to melt butter while also melting me with his romantic side.

One minute, he’s that movie star hero with the noble brow and the broad shoulders that comes swooping in to save the day. The next, he’s sweet and bringing me flowers and rubbing my tense shoulders. At another moment, he’s the comedian bent on teasing a smile out of me simply because I’m not having a good day. I try to show it back, the love, the lust, but I’m not very good at it. I have no idea how to be demonstrative.  Some of it is the control the hormone imbalance requires I retain upon my emotions lest I go ‘splody, some is just an upbringing where emotion was something you suppressed.

One of the things I like about movies is the heroes. They’re always so much bigger than life. Faced with such unreal choices in order to save the world and/or the girl. It helps that they’re all so good looking, too, of course. In movies, you get the macho, sensitive, morally upright guy with the bullwhip and fedora and the witty, spunky, pretty damsel in distress who makes his job just a little more difficult. My husband’s life would probably be simpler if I fit the damsel thing a little less completely than I do. I make things more difficult than they need to be. Sometimes out of some sort of internal perversity, other times just because I think that’s how they should go. But one thing those damsels have that I don’t, that I must apologize to him for is a spontaneity of emotion. I don’t do spontaneous. I should, but I don’t.  I’ve been working on it, but it’s not easy for me.

Movie analogies aside, lust is one thing. Lust is the fire the keeps burning, but can burn out quickly unless fed often. Lust is the ripped off shirt on the floor, jeans wadded in the corner, can’t-get-enough cousin to love. Love is the down in the trenches, day-to-day partnership, where you each have the others’ back in this world. It’s where you’re both working hard at staying above water and get from day to day. Love is when you’ve found your partner in this life. Lust is when you want to rip the clothes off said partner. Lust and love are sweat and blood and life and pain and joy.

So, honey, if you get to read this, I just wanted you to know that I lust you.


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