T-Rex and I were having a serious conversation this weekend about our future. In less a month, we will be celebrating two years together. For as slow as I made us moved in the beginning … making sure that we didn’t fall into bad patterns too quickly, we have quickly made up the time in the past six months. We are now living together, talking about engagment rings, and discussing having kids.
I can’t recall the topic of the conversation. My guess is finances, that has been the issue at hand lately. Joint checking account, budgeting bills, and saving for home improvements. I had just gotten out of the shower and was sitting on the bed naked, except a towel on my head. He was standing at the end of the bed, discussing budgeting worksheets and percentages. I realized, that here we were, a loving couple, him on testosterone, me in the nude, and we aren’t fucking.
What the hell.
There is is a point in every relationship where the sex jets start to cool. It doesn’t mean that that there a decline in love or lust, it just means you no longer feel the need to spend every spare second in the throws of ecstasy. And, apparently, we have reached that point. I felt a ping of sadness, feeling guilty for letting myself go and gaining weight, thinking that was the reason T-Rex wasn’t clawing his way on the bed to where I was sitting. And then I I smiled, and realized that we have become a real adult couple. We have real adult disagreements, we run real adult errands, and we have real adult love. And all of this makes me more happy then I have ever been before. I have done a lot in my short time here and have few cherries left to pop, but being this serous with a partner is new territory for me.
I guess all of these mushy thoughts caused me to smile stupidly as T-Rex was talking about the mortgage, which caused him to pause and ask me what was going through my head. I shared with him my relationship epiphany. He crawled on the bed, told me he loved me, and he fucked me until I became dizzy.
I am only lucky lady.