As I was driving the kid to day care this morning, I saw a guy cross the street that reminded me of an old boyfriend. It was the way he moved, his body type, and the way his shirt hung on his shoulders. The moment got me thinking about boys, and bodies, and physicality.
I started to think about boys I’d liked and what my “type” is, and it occurred to me… I really fancy my husband.
When we go to parties, I see him across the room and am proud to be with him. I see him on the soccer field and think, fondly, “that’s my man.” He’s sometimes so sweet and thoughtful, and he can be so wonderful with the boy — even though he taught him to catch bees last time he was home (when I was warning the kid to stay away from bees!).
I’ve really let my anger about our whole situation dominate, and let myself forget some of the things that drew me to him in the first place. And my negative feelings about my body have gotten me to sort of “turn off” that part of me that gets “turned on.”
I have no doubt I am justified in my anger and frustration. He’s not really there for either myself or my son most of the time, even emotionally (and definitely not physically). But, in the grand scheme of things, this time is a blip. He’s not doing this because he wants to (though some selfishness is definitely a factor), but is honestly working for the future of us, together as a family. For the long term, he’s the one I want to be with — I can’t imagine being without him — and I’ve already committed to be there, for better or worse.
So, while I’m at it, I might as well enjoy myself as much as possible. We’ve got a week’s vacation coming up, and I’ll be with my husband for several days, at least (long story). It’s going to be so much fun.