hen did it become too late for passion and love and heat and romance and sex? Seems I am rolling along getting to experience all the highs and lows of the intricate dance of a man and a woman and then one day, listening to music, you realize that you no longer experience what is being sung about. No more, do you do “the dance”.
Does it happen in a single moment? Like crossing some horrible black finish line? Or does it just come on slowly and gradually so that all of a sudden, you realize like I did, that it is just – poof! – gone?
God I used to love the feeling of falling in love. Or was it the feeling of lust? That sensual attraction that makes you want to have your hands and your mouth and your lips and your body on another person? To be near that person? To hear their laugh, their anger, their joy, even their silence?
Is that just a natural end-to-life? You’ve passed the point of procreating and even raising your babies and now, all of a sudden, there is no need (for the one that has been around) to be around anymore.
I was working in the garage this morning and listening to music. The song tells of a love of a man who wishes he had done it differently – “If I could, then I would; I’ll go wherever you will go, way up high or down low, I’ll go wherever you will go.”
Boy do I remember feeling so hopelessly entangled and endlessly in love that I would have walked on water for a man (or men) from my past. To feel so strongly and to care so little for myself, it was like an addiction to the strongest drug in the universe and you keep looking for that initial “high” over and over.
Maybe it is what my mother experienced once her children were all grown and she looked around and saw that the ‘spark’ of what makes life worth living was gone and why suddenly, she announced one day that she was ready to go. Can it be that life is not worth living without that rush and heat and flush? That once the passion is gone, it takes with it the passion for life?