On a more serious note...

As Dee correctly noted, our relationship has never been about swinging from chandeliers, but my post on middle-aged suburbia wasn’t lamenting things we are or aren’t doing – it was about the fact that I have never swung from chandeliers, and probably never will. I’ve always wanted to (or thought I did), but never had a willing partner (until, perhaps, now) or the mental-emotional self-esteem required to do so, and so comforted myself with a promise that those experiences would someday come.

I imagine most young men dream of threesomes and moresomes and harems of girlfriends and selfishly taking what they desire, and I was no different in thought. In practice, however, my sexual history includes a few infrequent, unfathomably boring partners (most of whom made it no secret they found me equally boring), and Dee -- and the Dee of my youth is (was?) far different from the one I know today... a jealously possessive partner who frequently reminded me that looking at others was unacceptable, that fantasizing about them was the same as cheating, and that there were tight constraints within which I must behave, or else.

Between the Christian science teacher dad, the thoroughly avoidant mom, and this history, I never truly developed the confidence to believe a woman would want me. I never learned to boldly take control or pursue my desires, or that it was even ok to do so. In the past, the end of a relationship was usually followed by months, even years of solitude before the next opportunity appeared. I learned that, in order to hang on to what I’ve got, I must be the most giving, selfless, and acquiescent of partners – not just in the bedroom, but in every aspect of life… never asking for anything, always serving, rarely comfortable, trying hard not to complain. It’s always been easier to give in, accept less, submit, or endure unhappiness. I learned to get what little I could through manipulation, and hold any dissatisfaction inside. My relationship mantra has always been “whatever you want.” After all, if I did any less than this, I was left behind, cast aside for someone else, someone who could deliver whatever it was I wasn't.

By contrast, Dee has swung from chandeliers, and has enjoyed numerous interesting partners. She has had no reason to endure dissatisfaction or to accept less, because there has almost always been another awaiting his chance. She has never endured years in succession without even a date. She has far less cause to look back and think “I wish I’d…,” or “If only I’d…” (except possibly with me).

We went to a swingers club, and my reaction was a flaccid ‘Dear God, what am I doing here?’ while Dee’s was a sizzling ‘Why did we wait so long?’ (yet another example, in a long line of examples, of why I remain convinced that, sooner or later, Dee will find someone who makes her happier than I). I wanted to enjoy myself, and reminded myself that this was exactly what I’d once dreamt of, but resisting my now grown-up, now ingrained reactions was like trying to make the tides run backwards. I was in over my head, and knew it. I felt like I was drowning. I felt uninteresting, unexciting… a miserable partner. And I felt old.

My post was about how disheartening it sometimes is to remember I once wanted to expand my horizons, when I find that that, now – whether due to the passage of time, the behavioral constructs of psychological learning, or the fact that I never possessed the proper qualities in the first place – I lack the energy and boldness required to chase those horizons, and likely wouldn’t enjoy them, should I ever reach them, as a result. I’ve become so set in my ways I can’t force myself to be otherwise, and attempting to do so leaves me so far removed from my comfort zone that, as Dee pointed out, “we usually get in a fight about it.”

My post wasn’t about wishing I could party all weekend, but about the fact that, whether at home or with friends, whether drinking coffee or Long Islands, whether active or sedentary, I know when it’s 9:45pm without having to look at a clock. It’s about how, no matter how late I stay awake, I can no longer sleep in and recover lost rest. It’s about the fact that I sometimes sense I may have to just accept who I am now, and put my teen-aged chandelier dreams behind me, once and for all.

I blame it on getting old, and maybe I’m right about that, or maybe I’m not. Most of the time I fight off whatever it is … but sometimes I don’t have the energy for that, either. And when that happens, I end up wallowing in it, just a little bit.