Half way along the carefully tended flowerbed, I stop. Or at least, inside me stops; the outside of me carries on strolling, admiring the dahlias. No-one will have noticed â€“ not least my husband, who is walking half a step ahead of me, mentally selecting plants for our garden.
It is the cerebral equivalent of a thunderclap, a parting of the skies by sheet lightning that illuminates the truth. And it is so funny that I almost laugh out loud. Almost that funny, but not quite.
You see whatâ€™s been going on is that there are two people living inside my head. Thereâ€™s the sensible one whoâ€™s spent all morning visiting a National Trust property and making all the right noises about history; thereâ€™s another who would rather have been lounging on the beach. The first one is quite happy to be with her husband; the second yearns for a surfer-boy to come out of the waves and whisk her away for an afternoon of red hot sex. Owen surfs â€“ but I push the thought away because this has sod all to do with him.
Heâ€™s like an innocent bystander to the car crash that was so very nearly my life. And if heâ€™s the innocent bystander then my husband is the unwitting passenger as I take my eye off the road to change the CD. Luckily, I notice the approaching juggernaut just in time.
We wander down the grassy path towards the manor house and I try to come to terms with my discovery. Some mornings, I look in the mirror and I see an attractive young woman; on others I see a knackered old harridan approaching middle age. I rather suspect that the reality is somewhere between the two; however the truth is that I donâ€™t seem able to accept it.
This is the reason so many middle aged men have affairs and make such fools of themselves; a last attempt to taste the fruits of youth before they over-ripen and fall to the ground in a sticky mess. A selfish railing against the perceived injustices of increasing age; a genetic urge to stick up two fingers at the passing of time.
But they are not bad people because of it, I realise, and neither am I. Not bad, just foolish. I wonder if my husband is going through the same thing and rather uncomfortably admit to myself that he might be. In which case, I think I know the answer. Lots of sex â€“ with each other.
yaaaaaaaaaaaaay 🙂 discovery!! middle age crises abound rut roh
SEX is certainly not the answer to this crises, mutual respect is!!!
I just wanted to say that i have been surprised pleasantly by reading this blog, who are you people? whoever you are you are doing an excellent job!!
Over the years of a married life you will come to realize that it is companionship that matters in the end not the physical aspect of it. However you must smell those roses while you can smell as they say at my age 🙂
Yes, I do know about respect and companionship – I quite deliberately married the man who was (and still is) my best friend.
But it doesn’t make any of the rest of this crap less real.
And as for who we all are, Anjum, I guess what binds us together is the love of the written word.
hear hear on the written word.. the rest of the world out there is crapaholic.. relationships are like badly run banana republics.. always on the lookout for the next tempestuous dictator. If you like Anjum you can join us…just submit a written sample to me and we shall take it from there…but remember.. personal gain is frowned upon here.. hence the “free” site instead of a self indulgent domain name and etc etc
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