Midlife Natalie

Every day I open a new window to type a blog post, but I hesitate because I tend to want to wax poetic over my new relationship with every word I type.  I know you guys have to be getting tired of that!  (But oh my gosh…it is so good!!)  So I close the blogging window and then stare at Facebook and do the same thing.  I’m not at a loss for words anymore, but I don’t want to make people sick with my love musings.  (Seriously…I am so lucky to have found this girl!!) So I end up not saying anything about anything.  Until now…

So…let’s talk about sex.  

During my entire married life I never had much of a sex drive at all.  I never thought about it really.  I laughed and joked with my friends about all the sex they were having, but I never really cared about actually having it myself.  Of course I had sex.  Before I was married even.  But even then I didn’t want it.  Once I was married sex with my husband was always ok.  Nothing big. Just sex.  It’s not because he didn’t try to make it something big and special either.  He did.  I just wasn’t ever interested.

We were married for a long time before I ever had an orgasm during sex.  Of course he didn’t know that though.  And I had orgasms.  Often even.  Let’s just say I was well-versed in the art of going solo.  To be completely honest I preferred going solo to actual sex.  So I guess maybe I did have a sex drive…it just wasn’t connected to him, or anyone else for that matter.  I just figured I was somewhat broken in the whole sex with someone department.  I didn’t want it, need it, or care to have it.

I remember when we were getting ready to go overseas.  We had to take personality tests and job skills tests and psychological profile tests.  One of the tests had several questions about sex.  I remember being a tad bit uncomfortable.  I wasn’t sure how to answer them.  On one question I answered that I thought about sex too much.  My husband answered it the same way.  When we were being counseled our adviser brought up that we both answered that question in the affirmative and wanted to know if there was something kinky going on.  We were both a tad bit embarrassed.  I had only answered it that way because I felt like I was constantly trying to figure out how not to have to do it.  Of course I didn’t divulge that information.  My husband was thinking the exact opposite.  He wondered how to get it more.

Then I allowed myself to fall in love with a girl.  Everything in me was totally turned on by everything she did.  Hell, she didn’t even have to do anything, and I was on edge.  Just seeing her and hearing her voice.  All of it totally and completely turned me on.  I had never experienced anything like it in my life.  I loved how it made me feel.  Of course if you’ve read my story at all you know we had a year long emotional affair that culminated in a week long physical affair.  It was my first experience with a woman, and it changed me.  For the first time I understood what wanting someone in that intimate way felt like.

After the physical affair the issue of sex in my marriage reared it’s ugly head.  I had managed to avoid kissing my husband the entire week of the affair.  That wasn’t even planned.  It just happened that way.  And now here we were and he expected a little more than just kissing.  How in the hell was I supposed to have sex with him when I had just experienced something that far surpassed anything I had ever felt with him?  It was impossible.  I managed to avoid it the first night because I was tired and sick.  The next day I knew sex was on the agenda.  I knew there was no getting out of it.  Because I really was sick it was a quickie, but it was still sex.  When it was over and my husband had fallen asleep, I just laid in my bed and cried.  I was forever changed by my experience with a woman.  Before her I had sex with my husband because I knew I was supposed to.  He needed it.  It was ok.  It was never great.  I always preferred quickies with little to no foreplay.  I didn’t care if I had an orgasm or not.  I did it for him and him alone.  After the affair it was different.  I still did it because I knew I was supposed to.  It was never great.  I still preferred quickies with no foreplay.  I couldn’t handle all the pressure for it to be great so quick was the way out.

And I have never been a fan of sex in the light.  I like darkness.  I just do.   Pretty much my whole married life I would push away any love-making efforts made by my husband during the daylight hours.  Of course there were times I had sex during the day; it just wasn’t the preferred time at all.  Daytime sex meant I had to pay attention to the looks that crossed my face.   I knew that I often look bored, frustrated, or indifferent during sex.  I always had.  And after the love affair I’d had with my friend, there were many moments of extreme sadness and tears during sex as well.  I didn’t want my husband to have to witness that.  I’m sure on the rare occasions we had sex during the daytime the look on my face was one of concentration.  I wonder what he thought of that.  

In my first relationship after my husband, sex was big.  It was the first time with no guilt involved.  I wanted it more than I got it, but it was such a new thing to me.  To even have that desire.  I wasn’t sure what to do with myself.   And it was always in the bedroom and always in the dark. 

In my last relationship, things started out ok, but very little effort was put forth by either of us as far as sex goes, so it became more of a chore than a pleasure.  And I don’t say any of that to dis her.  It was what it was.  And the darkness of the bedroom was the rule there as well.

And now…everything is different.  Bedroom, living room, kitchen.  Standing up, sitting down, or in bed.  Day or night…light or dark…it doesn’t matter.  But oh my gosh the light!!  I love being able to see her face and have no worries about what looks cross my face.  I don’t even think about it.  And I love to look at her…make eye contact…and see her feelings written on her face.  It is a beautiful thing.   I get great pleasure from watching her and touching her.  I can’t even put into words how it makes me feel.  And to give complete control to someone else is also amazing.  To be able to trust her fully with no thoughts about anything and then to have my mind blown is just…WOW.  

And it’s not just about the physical aspect of sex.  We will sit and stare at each other for endless moments.  Just looking.  Memorizing.  Feeling.  The deep connection and love, coupled with being able to physically enjoy each other, just threw me for a loop.  I had no idea what that felt like.  

I feel blessed.  Lucky.  And so very thankful.  To borrow her words…she is a game-changer and I love her.

So I snooped…and this is what I found.

Oh my gosh…I’m in love!

Yesterday, I wrote a blog post that was triggered by a thought written by a virtual stranger on the internet.  By one word in that thought actually.  And what I ended up writing was in no way close to what was on my mind concerning that word, but it was the beginning of a story that could include that word someday.  I ran out of time yesterday morning so I wasn’t able to bring the thought, the word, and my thoughts together into something complete.  Today, I am gathering my own thoughts again to try and finish what I started.

So it’s been a month and 6…wait…7 days.  A month and a week.  I can’t even explain my feelings about it all.  I can say that it has been the easiest month and week I’ve ever had at the beginning of a relationship.  The first couple of weeks I was a little unsure of where things were headed, but it was still so easy.  I knew I liked her, but I had been so confident that my decision to not date anyone right now was the right decision that it threw me for a loop.  I knew she liked me, but it was hard to know what was going through her mind exactly.  She had lots of thoughts.  I could see them pass by her eyes.  I am usually a pretty good thought seer, but like me, she needed time to think them before she could voice them so I wasn’t ever completely sure.  I guess, since it’s only been a month and a week, I should still be saying that I’m not sure where things are headed.  It is still early.  But the thing is…I know.  She’s voiced some of those thoughts.  She’s heard mine.  I know she has more to say at some point.  I’ve seen it.  And I can imagine it.  And despite it only being a month and a week, we are headed towards the word that triggered this post.

Now let me start at what should have been the beginning…

Yesterday, I was reading the Facebook page of a stranger friend.  She is gay and has recently started dating someone.  I say recently, but in all actuality it might have been 6 months already.  They are living together and in her update she said something about plans she had with her “wife” over the weekend.  And that is where I stopped.  I was surprised to see her using that word.  Wife.  Such a HUGE word.  They aren’t married.  They haven’t had a ceremony.  And I know it takes much more than a ceremony to add meaning to the word, but it just hit me the wrong way.  I hear that word thrown around like it’s light and airy.  It’s attached to so many living together situations where it doesn’t actually belong.  Now I totally get that it’s the prerogative of the person using the word to attach whatever meaning they want to it, but for me it is a sacred word.  One that comes with a lifetime of commitment.  Not one that goes with every committed monogamous dating relationship.  Even those where you’ve moved in together and have plans for a future.  There has to be a point where it becomes the right thing to say.  And moving in together isn’t that point for me.  And lesbians seem to be the worst about using it flippantly.  If you ask heterosexual couples who’ve lived together for less than two years, but have not had any kind of commitment ceremony, I would venture to say they don’t ever use the terms husband and wife to refer to each other.  They just don’t.  They are boyfriend/girlfriend, fiancees, partners maybe.  But husband and wife are terms that are usually reserved for either long term live-in couples or for after an actual wedding ceremony.

My ex used the term wife to refer to me on occasion.  I was never comfortable with it at all, and at no point did I ever refer to her using that word.  She was my girlfriend.  Plain and simple.  After we moved in together I added the word partner to my vocabulary.  I did feel that since we were living together it automatically upped the level of relationship.  But at no point was she ever my wife nor was I hers.  Early on there was talk of marriage.  It always made me uncomfortable, but I never said so.  The fact that I let her believe that I was completely on board with that idea was terrible of me.  I just wasn’t ready to get married.  I didn’t know if I would ever be ready again.  With my first girlfriend, it was the same.  I wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment to anyone.  I had failed the first time I tried it so I couldn’t bring myself to make that kind of promise to someone else.  Someone I wasn’t 100% sure about.

It’s been 5 years since I left my husband and 4 years since the word wife was an appropriate moniker for me.  I’ve dealt with the fact that my marriage failed.  I accept responsibility for it.  I’m not sad over it nor do I feel guilt over it anymore.  I understand that for me to be who I truly am, I had to leave.  And now I am different.  I’m not the same girl I was 5 or even 4 years ago.  I’ve had my heart broken into a million pieces and had to pick myself back up from the depths of despair.  I’ve gone through a major life change and learned to stand on my own two feet.  I’ve been in two significant relationships which both taught me things about myself and what it is that I want and need in a significant other.  And I’ve learned how to recognize red flags.  That is important.

When I met my husband, there were no red flags.  Not one.  Yes, I had been secretly attracted to women, but because I was raised Southern Baptist, it wasn’t even an option for me.  And I was madly in love with him.  He was perfect.  We were perfect.  At 19, I knew I wanted to marry him before I ever even officially dated him.  We even joked about how alike we were and that we should just get married a full year before we started dating.  After two years of dating we tied the knot.  It was the summer I turned 22.  I loved being his wife and couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.  I put aside any and all feelings I had about girls from the moment I met him.  It was only when we went overseas that those deeply buried desires came back up and I had to face them head on.  So for 12 years of our 19 year marriage there was never even a thought about it.  I’d say that’s pretty good.  And for last 6 years we lived together I fought myself over being gay on a daily basis.  Because I was his wife and I loved him.  I truly did.

With both of the lesbian relationships I’ve been in, there were red flags from the beginning.  I saw things that I knew would be a problem, but I thought I might get over them.  I tried to push aside the red flags and see around them to a future somewhere.  I just accepted that things might not be perfect and lived with that.  In both situations, I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t ever say with certainty that I was where I was supposed to be.  I knew better.

And now I am here.  In a month and a week long relationship that has taken my breath away.  I’ve looked hard and analyzed it from all angles and I can find no red flags.  None.  How is that even possible?  How is it that she seems perfect for me?  I’ve asked myself that question over and over.  But in the end, it is what it is.  She is perfect for me.  I can keep asking and looking and digging and concentrate on finding something wrong or I can embrace the amazing thing that it is.  I choose to embrace it.  And while I have no idea what the future will look like exactly, I know where we are headed.   It’s been mentioned some, but because this is so new for both of us, we’ve tread pretty lightly.   But for the first time since my divorce I can say with complete certainty that I will get married again.  That’s huge for me.  I never thought it would happen.

And the best part…not only will I be a wife again someday…for the first time ever, I will have a wife.  You guys…you have NO idea how crazy it feels to say that.  I can’t help it though.  The word bubbles up and has to be said.  Wife…wow.

The past month and a half has been most amazing. It’s one of those things that I can’t even put into words. I know that’s quite obvious by my lack of blogging. Well, I’ve blogged, but much of what’s been put here was once written for another blog. I read back over that stuff and decided to repost some of it just to keep this place from becoming dormant again. But as far as new words go…I’ve been so full that I’ve not been able to speak. It happens. Today, I seem to have words so I’m writing. We’ll see what comes out.

Candied Jansen and I have been “official” for almost a month and a week. I use the word official in quotes for a reason. My 14 year old started calling Candied my girlfriend almost from day one. Day One being date number one where we met for a late dinner on January 25. The day before Valentine’s Day my daughter asked if Candied had asked me out yet. I was so confused. Of course she had…we’d been on several dates. January 25, February 1, February 7 and we had plans to see each other on Valentine’s Day as well. She went on the explain that she didn’t mean dates, she meant were we official girlfriends. I reminded her that she’d been calling her my girlfriend already. I told her that I didn’t think people in their 40s officially asked someone to be their girlfriend. She seemed quite frustrated that my line of thinking didn’t match hers so she carefully explained her position to me. We needed an official date that Candied and I became a couple so there was an anniversary date to celebrate. It was important. I was texting Candied at the time telling her about our conversation, and she ran with it! She said she could officially ask me the next day or we could pick one of the other dates as the beginning. After a few texts back and forth and some adorable nerdy math on her part, we decided that Feb. 7th sounded like a good date. I told my daughter who seemed satisfied with our choice. A week or so later, Candied was at my place and tagged our 1 month anniversary on my refrigerator calendar. My daughter was on month 4 with her boyfriend so it was completely appropriate to mark our date on the calendar as well. The best part is watching the 14 year old simultaneously think it’s cute and disgusting. I love that!

So fast forward a couple of weeks to March 7. One month down. I’d spent the night at Candied’s place the night of the 6th so sometime after midnight she wished me a “Happy One Month”. Totally cute. I went to school feeling quite happy about the whole thing! During lunch that day, flowers were delivered to the school for me. I know I turned all kinds of red in my brief confusion as to why I was getting flowers. My teaching partner has met Candied so she was all over the fact that she sent me flowers! The card accompanying the flowers was very sweet, and I pretty much floated through the rest of the day.

So it’s been a month. A month and 6 days…and counting.

Something I wrote several years ago, but it still rings true about me today…

1. i am not a verbal processor. when i try to say what i am thinking before i have had a chance to think it through it comes out all wrong. i say what i don’t mean to say. my words might make some sort of sense to the person hearing them, but they aren’t ever what i mean. i have learned…most of the time…to keep my mouth shut until i know what i think and feel. sometimes i don’t, and i always say something stupid, make a mountain out of a molehill, hurt someone with my words, or embarrass myself. sometimes all of the above. shut up, natalie, shut up!

2. i am stubborn. if i don’t want to do it no amount of begging or bribing will change my mind. i might change my mind. my circumstances might change. my feelings about the thing i am being stubborn about might change. i might decide to do what i stubbornly said i wouldn’t. but there is nothing anyone else can do to make me change my mind. (i know…this isn’t really a good thing.)

3. i listen hard. – to people – i want to know what they are thinking. i ask that question of those close to me often. what are you thinking? and then i remember almost every word they say…replaying conversations in my head so i don’t forget them. (i do sometimes have trouble remembering what i say though…it usually seems trivial compared to what others have said to me) – to songs – i will listen to a song over and over just to hear the way the words go together. i look up the lyrics so i can be sure to understand what they are saying. and i wonder about the one singing the song. if they really feel the words coming from their mouth as much as i feel them as i hear them. – to life – in my own world some sounds have just faded into the background because i am so used to hearing them, but when i am away from my normal i hear everything. the birds, the wind, the sounds of life happening all around me. so i sit back and listen taking it in.

(i fully expect comments or emails from those who i have not paid attention to…not listened to. i know you are out there! and it wasn’t that you didn’t have something important to say…my mind was full? maybe…)

once upon a time i had a pedometer that had a reset button in just the right spot so that every time my arm moved past my hip i reset the darn thing. so i moved it to the middle of my belt and leaned on the counter to wash the dishes and reset the darn thing. then i moved it to a spot almost in the middle of my back, and when i tried to pull it off to see what it said i reset the darn thing. i’m sure the hissy fit i threw over the darn thing burned more calories than my actual walking did.

A few weeks back I took the Myers-Briggs personality test.  I scored as an ESFJ.  I’d also taken this same test in 2001, but I don’t remember what my results were.  I do remember that they were right down the middle.  Earlier today, I was perusing an old blog and found that I’d written this post in March of 2009.  Totally cracked me up!

I just took an online version of a similar albeit much shorter Myers-Briggs test and these are my results.   

Words excite me. What words mean and how we use them to get our point across is thrilling to me. The way the right combination of words makes me feel is something I have trouble putting into my own words. I am often at a loss for words. I know this may seem surprising to those of you who’ve heard my unending vomit of the mouth at times…but it’s true. When I’m in that state I feel completely unable to use my brain to form sentences that make sense….like someone has opened my head and is stirring my thoughts with a long-handled spoon…making them go round and round, mixing them up, until you can’t distinguish one from another. That feeling is overwhelming…a word I use a lot. I could say overpowering or mind-boggling, but I like overwhelming. It engulfs me…ooooh…I like that word, too!

Sometimes when I am so full of that overwhelming feeling, I ramble or chant or make lists.

I’m not looking but my eyes are wide open…and then…anticipation of an event originally planned 2 1/2 years earlier.  So I see, and watch, and observe, and wonder.  And smile.  Lots of smiling.

And more.

unplanned, unrehearsed, unabashed, unbelievable.

Road trips and rocking chairs.

anticipation, adoration.

The way the right set of words makes me feel…

stunning, thrilling, moving.

adorable, comfortable, remarkable, desirable, pleasurable, incredible.

stupendous, marvelous, fabulous.

eye-opening, breathtaking, heart-stirring, mind-blowing, spine-tingling, out-of-this-world.

My whole life I’ve always been an organized person. I can’t help it…I like order and control. I don’t always have to have control of everything, but I like things to be controlled. Things have a place. I like knowing what I will find when I open a drawer or cabinet in the kitchen. If I need something, I know exactly where to go looking for it. When I use something, I always put it back where it belongs when I’m done. I make lists of goals, keep calendars so I can look back at what I’ve done, and keep fairly meticulous files. I still have a weight loss journal that I kept in 2003 of measurements, food eaten, and weight lost. It was completely hand written. In 2007, I decided to go on another diet and made a chart on the computer and filled it in daily by hand. A year ago, when I took the Financial Peace class, I used their forms and filled out my budget by hand monthly. It was totally right up my alley when it came to organization. People at school call on me when they need to know things, because they know that I will know. My principal seems to sign me up for every committee because she knows I’ll pay attention and do it. I’m good with that.

I say all of that to say this…

Last night I was with Candied Jansen at her house. She has calendars (yes, plural) on her refrigerator door to keep herself organized. She had spreadsheets of goals taped to her mirror in the bathroom. She has a coupon/wallet thing that she carries with her everywhere and operates on a cash only system. Whatever cash isn’t spent on the allotted category is then put into a completely different account…it isn’t considered free money. She already has a budget for 2015 that she’s plugging numbers into. I didn’t go through her cabinets or drawers to see how organized they were…I’ll do that one day when she isn’t looking, but her house is always neat which I love!

The other night we were chatting on the phone, and I mentioned that I loved to cook. That I learned to cook from scratch when I lived in Turkey because if I wanted something special to eat, I had to learn how to make it myself. That I didn’t always cook from scratch in the states, because I am not a stay at home mom anymore, but that yes, I did know how to make gumbo. The groans on the other end of the line were like nothing I’d heard before. It was like Food Porn…amazing.

And then last night, she mentioned the movie Divergent coming out and how she wanted to see it. I told her a few days ago that I read the books so I brought them for her to borrow. We started talking Children’s Literature…or rather, I started talking Children’s Literature, and I told her how I read books to my own kids and the kids in my classes all the time. That it was one of my most favorite things to do. The look on her face was awesome! She was totally turned on by the thought of me reading aloud which I found amusing and HOT at the same time! Whew!

Organized, goal oriented, looking at the big picture, food porn, and listening to me talk children’s lit…

I think I’ve met my match!

Confucius said that.  I agree with him.  I love to travel…near, far, new, old.  It is something I grew up doing and have continued to do as an adult.  I love places that are out of the way as well as places everyone thinks are must sees.  As long as I have a camera to capture the beauty, the raw intensity, the peacefulness, the heart of the place I’m visiting, I am happy.  Here is a post I wrote back in 2008.  I was reminded of it tonight and wanted to share.  Click on the pictures to enlarge them…you won’t regret it!

My favorite place in Istanbul. Yerebatan…the cisterns in Sultanahmet. Here is a brief description and then a few pictures.

Yerebatan is a Byzantine cistern (underground water storage place) dating back to the 6th century. This cistern has fine brick vaulting supported by 336 Corinthian columns. It is the largest covered cistern in Istanbul, dating back to the Roman times. It’s dimensions are 140 by 70 meters, and it is capable of holding 80,000 cubic meters of water. The Basilica Cistern was actually the reservoir for the prodigious quantity of water required for the Byzantine Great Palace, and it is thought to date back to the reign of Justinian in 532. Today it is virtually empty; only a couple of feet of water line the bottom. Wooden walkways have been constructed for visitors.

Isn’t this beautiful? It is quiet and peaceful…and I just love it. Most of the columns are just plain marble ones.

Fish in the water.

One of three different columns in the cisterns.

The base of this column is a Medusa head. The builders of the cisterns used whatever kinds of materials they found and often times that meant pieces from other ruins. This Medusa head was probably originally on top of something. Now it is used as a base for a column.

A picture of the head right side up.

Another Medusa head used to support a column.

And here it is right side up. They were used at the base of the columns and turned sideways and upside down to show disrespect.

I have heard so many people say that the cisterns aren’t a big deal, but I would visit them every time I went to Istanbul if I could. The fact that this place has been around for 1500 years is amazing to me. Amazing.