Chapter Four

Early last week Hubby told me we were going to keep Valentine’s Day low key and only about love. He said if I wanted to get him a cute card that would be alright but he was going to take care of everything else because I am busy and stressed at work with more responsibilities. He told me we would celebrate it on Sunday instead of today for the same reason. I figured that meant we were just going out for a nice dinner.

As soon as we got home from church on Sunday he went out to the garage and brought in a vase of gorgeous white carnations, my favorite. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He said now I am going to read you my weekly letter. He started to read. I’ve copied the letter here word for word.

A few of the flowers are fully open and will soon start to wilt. They represent our first few years. We were in love but we couldn’t express it and just as these blossoms struggle to stay vibrant so we struggled to keep our love strong. Soon the many buds you see will start to open. They represent our new beginning. They will slowly open up revealing a beauty just as our love did last summer when we learned to share our love in that special, sensual manner. They will finally spring into full bloom as our love did on that Thanksgiving weekend and become a beautiful bouquet of love, so complete and so full. These too will slowly fade and drop their petals as sometimes we may take each other for granted and maybe get to complacent. But one carnation will bloom forever. Like my love for you it will never fade. I will love you and protect you and be there for you till this last carnation drops its petals.”

He handed me the letter and I touched the one carnation that was a little different and it was indeed a perfect silk carnation. His letter was so hokie but so sweet and so from his heart. Tears were just rolling down my face. I said, “I will water that carnation and take care of it and make sure it never wilts.” We hugged and he held me so tight. After I got my composure back, he was still holding me and he told Alexa to play “Loving Her Was Easier Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again.” He held me and we swayed a little to the music. When it got to the middle where the title is sung he said, “That song is exactly how I feel. Loving you is so easy.” Somehow I knew he was going to say something like that but I still started to tear up. I couldn’t help myself.

After a minute, he was still holding me, and he asked why I cry when he tries to show me how much he loves me. I got very stern and told him that this was a beautiful moment and not to take it away from me. He understood and he pulled me tighter against him as if to say he was sorry and we didn’t say another word for a couple of minutes.

Eventually I took his hand and we went and sat on the couch and just talked and cuddled. At one point I said, “Loving me must have been hard those first years.” He answered without hesitation. “Making love was hard but loving you has always been easy.” He had done it to me again and I started to tear up. He said, “I will never understand you.” I told him not to worry about understanding me, just keep loving me for as long as that last carnation keeps its petals. Then I giggled and asked if he hadn’t learned anything last weekend about spoiling a romantic moment. I asked, “Do I have to get the ruler out again?” We both laughed. He really doesn’t understand why I cry when he shows me special love. I can’t explain it either, I just do.

We got talking about the future and where we wanted to be in ten or twenty years and when we are old and gray. Then he said something that was sweet but scary at the same time. He said, “In fifty years or so when I bite the big one I want you to play that song at my funeral. Then everyone will know how easy it was to love you. They will know you made me everything I am.” Then he laughed, pointed at me and said, “And then this gray haired lady can sprinkle my ashes in the wind.” We both kind of chuckled at the gray haired lady thing. He said, “you may be gray but you will still be beautiful in every way.” I asked him why he thought he would die first. He laughed and said if you look at the obituaries it always says, “Survived by his wife.” Then he said, “But you don’t have to worry about it for another fifty years. And after I am gone I will still be watching over you and protecting you till eternity.” Needless to say I had to wipe my eyes on his shoulder.

Later that afternoon he made a magnificent dinner, Salmon is my favorite and he does a good sauce. He had candles and the good table cloth and sparkling wine and after he wouldn’t even let me help clean up.

We watched the super bowl and the half-time show. Neither of us is into Rap music but they put on an elaborate performance. Mostly sat on the couch and cuddled because he didn’t care about either of the teams. His Eagles didn’t make it past the first round.

Came bedtime we undressed each other. He made it clear he didn’t want an orgasm for him, he just wanted to make love. Then he said, “We are in the bedroom so you are in charge now.” He laid me on the bed and proceeded to gently massage and kiss my whole body. I told him not to take me over the edge because I just wanted to make love too. His hands were so gentle and he would brush my breasts very lightly, just enough to make me moan a little. After a few minutes I told him to lie down beside me. I rolled him on his back and mounted him. I just laid on top of him while he caressed my shoulders and back and kissed my neck. I laid on top of him even after he went soft and slipped out. I gave him a very passionate kiss and then rolled off into his arms. I was totally relaxed and fell asleep in no time. I woke up this morning still in his arms.

He said it was going to be a low key Valentine’s Day but I couldn’t imagine a more emotional day. He said it was going to be all about love and it was.

 

The thought of ever losing Hubby even when I am old and gray is scary. You are right though that he will still be there watching over me. I have received signs when I needed direction in the past and I know of people who have seen signs from their loved one who passed. Those who don’t believe and see these things as mere coincidence, you may be right but as for me I believe and my God has never let me down. He’s made me wait but never let me down.

My Valentine’s Day (and it was my Valentine’s Day because he only got a funny card.) still has me smiling. The dinner he made was special and not having to do anything but relax all day while he did everything else was a nice gift. But what the day was about was that moment when he read his letter to me. It was a silly letter as he tried to make those carnations tell the story of our love but it was so from his heart. And that one carnation that will never die, what can I say. It will remind me every day how much he loves me.

Neither one of us wanted an orgasm that night. It would have been anticlimactic.. It would have taken away from that special love he showed me all day. That quiet love making was the exclamation point on the day.

The carnations, my favorite and not that easy to find for this holiday, the letter, the song, just sitting and snuggling and talking even during the Super Bowl, and a wonderful dinner I didn’t have to even help with; so many happy tears.

He does deserve to know why I cry when I am so happy….so loved. I am so messed up. Why am I not all smiles and jumping for joy when he say I love you? Maybe I’ll sit here till I figure it out. Or till bed time, whichever comes first.

We’ll definitely have to do that orgasm thing tonight to get him back on schedule. He hasn’t had one since Saturday. But I don’t want one for me. I just want him to make me melt after we do it like when we first started that programed sex last spring. He got his orgasm and Then I got to feel loved. I am still in Valentine’s mode. LOL

 

It is a real simple sauce I do. A lot of brown sugar with a little bourbon. I squeeze in quite a bit of lemon and orange. I even try to get some of the fruit pulp in to give it a little texture. You need enough lemon to make it sweet with a slightly sour tang. I don't use specific amounts of anything. I just keep adjusting till the mix has both a sweet and sour taste. The orange and bourbon just add some interesting flavor. Again just adjust till your happy with the taste.
I brush it on to the salmon that I have rubbed with a hint of garlic. Then I bake the salmon at 400 till it flakes nicely. Depending on how thick the fillets are it is 15 to 18 minutes. Then when it is done I drizzle a little more sauce over the salmon when I plate it. I usually serve it with a side of brown rice or quinoa that I also drizzle with a little of the sauce rather than butter. For a veggie I slice up some squash, throw in some cranberries some chopped onions and sweet peppers and fry them in a little olive oil at low heat until they are tender but not soft. (Onions in first and I caramelize them so they are not bitter) Serve it with a little prosecco and it makes one fantastic dinner.

 

Not just on Valentine’s Day, but a few times Hubby has wondered why I cry when he shows me how much he loves me. I have never had an answer for him. Last night I actually did think about what goes on in my mind when Hubby does special things to make me feel loved. I think I came to some realizations. This can be my weekly letter to him.

Dear Hubby,

It has played on my mind since our Valentine’s Day about why I cry when you show me that special love. I thought about it some last night and I might know why.

My mother spent years teaching me when a man shows love to a woman it is a bad thing and needs to be shunned. I had shut out my sister so she didn’t get a chance to let me know that I should be happy if a man loves me in that special way that says he respects me and truly cares for me. She would have done that because when we video chat I can see how much she loves her husband and he loves her. Even daddy never really showed me love or affection, especially after puberty. He would say “I love you honeybunch” but that was it. It’s like he was afraid to hug me or comfort me.

The only hug from anybody I remember ever getting was that day at the fair when daddy won Bear for me. The man gave it to me and daddy hugged me and said “I love you -------” and he actually said my name instead of Honeybunch. Mother wasn’t with us that day. Now that I think about it I don’t remember ever seeing mother and daddy hug or kiss. Mother never hugged me and I don’t remember her ever saying she loved me. I never thought about that until last night. Maybe that is why I took all my troubles to Bear. Bear didn’t ever tell me I was wrong and I could hug Bear all I wanted.

In college I never let any men get truly close to me. The few dates I went on, I was cold and distant. Even during our first years together I was cold in the bedroom and was afraid to get close to you in any physical way.

Last summer you showed me how much you loved me. You gave up all your orgasms so I could be comfortable being physically close to you. At Thanksgiving you threw yourself under the bus to protect me from my mother’s daggers. I suddenly realized how wrong my mother was and how much you truly loved me. I learned how good it is to feel loved.

Now when you remind me of how much you love me it is overwhelming. I just break down and cry because I don’t know what else to do. I have never known a love like yours before.

I don’t know if this makes any sense to you at all, but I think your love is so overwhelming for this messed up woman who never understood what it meant to be loved that all I can do is cry. Rest assured they are the happiest tears that ever rolled down any woman’s cheeks.

Love,

Missy

 

After I wrote that letter to Hubby I had to talk to daddy. I needed to know why nobody ever hugged me or told me they loved me when I was growing up. Daddy would say “I love you Honeybunch” in a very off hand way but it was always instead of goodbye when one of us was going out.

I called him and we talked about how down I was feeling right now because of my memories of growing up. Daddy told me that after what happened with my sister mother couldn’t let the same thing happen to you. She was always a little bit cold and strict but she turned almost mean about it. If daddy showed me any affection she would admonish him. It was not right for a father to get close to a daughter. Mother believed that was where HE went wrong with my sister. He made her a pervert.

Then I told him the only loving moment I remember from my childhood was that day at the fair when he played that ring toss game a million times so he could win me a big bear for a prize. And when he did that was the only time he ever hugged me or said he loved me with my name. There was a long pause and then he said, “I can’t believe you remember that. It was the only time I ever had a chance to tell you how I really felt.” His voice was shaky and strange. Then he changed the subject and wanted to know how Hubby was doing and we talked a while more.

Finally he asked me if I wanted to talk to mother about any of this. I said if she wants to I would talk to her. I heard him call to mother and ask if she wanted to talk to me and I heard mother yell back, “Is she going to apologize?” Daddy didn’t even ask me. He just yelled back, “No.” I heard mother say, “then there’s nothing to talk about.” Daddy started to tell me and I just said I heard her. We talked a bit more.

After we hung up and I thought about our conversation I pretty much concluded that there is nothing left of their marriage. I wonder why he stays with her. I felt terrible. Talking to daddy and hearing the sadness in his voice made me teary.

 

Sorry for the downer but I felt even worse after talking to daddy and I had to vent. I'm not ready to lay this on Hubby so I vented on my imaginary friends.

 

Last night Missy told me not to read anything she wrote last night till after she went to work today. She didn’t want to have to talk about till tonight. I will let her read this and then she can talk about it if and when she wants to. I will make sure her hug when she comes home tonight lasts a little longer.

Dear Missy,

It actually does make sense. I guess I didn’t realize just how little affection you received growing up. My experience was so different from yours. I knew your mother could be harsh but it seems she actually withheld her love from you. And she blocked everyone else’s too. She taught you to be afraid of being loved or getting close to someone else, especially a man. When I show you I love you, you must feel a basketful of contradictory emotions. It must be bitter sweet never knowing whether to be elated or to cry.

I think I finally understand and it is okay if you cry. Please know that when I show you my love it comes with a guarantee. I promise that you will always be safe in my arms and you never have to be afraid of my love. I promise that all of your tears will be happy tears forever.

Love,

Hubby

 

The understanding and support we get here from people like you has been much of what has made our journey possible.
Missy's referring to you all as imaginary friends dates back to her first post here when we were at our lowest point. She could make that first post because she didn't actually know any of you and we would never actually meet. You became imaginary friends much like her stuffed bear she had as a child. She could say anything to the people here and she didn't have to say it to me face to face. It was a safe place. When the support and understanding poured in it became so much easier for us to talk to each other about the really hard things.
Since then we have written our difficult letters to each other here because when we are honest with our imaginary friends about our problems they are there for us. There with support and often good advice.
So that is how you got to be imaginary friends. She does know you are real but you are safe because when she writes about her scariest feelings she knows she will never actually have to see you and be ashamed.
So please don't take it personally or as making you something less than you are when she calls you her imaginary friends.

 

I hugged her last night when she got home for a little longer than normal and told her supper was on hold and I could finish it anytime. I told she could read what I wrote while I got us a glass of wine. She read it and came out of the office a little teary. I asked her she wanted to talk. She said, "No, just hold me for a minute." Then she said, " I always thought my mother loved me. I don't think so now." She was quiet for a minute and then she said, "I at least have you. Daddy doesn't have anybody."
After a couple more minutes she asked me if I could rub her shoulders. She plopped down on the couch and I rubbed her shoulders and her back. She had her eyes closed the whole time but they were definitely wet. She eventually laid down and I rubbed her feet and her calves and she fell asleep.
I don't know if her talk with her father played on her mind all day or not but she definitely was mentally exhausted. She woke up about 7:30 and I finished the supper and we ate. She didn't say anything more about it all evening. We just watched TV all evening and I held her hand. She was very quiet.
When we went to bed she just said, "thank you." I was pretty sure it was her way of saying she didn't want to do our sex requirement. I just held her and gently caressed her and she eventually melted.
When she woke up this morning she was in a good mood and we had a few minutes before we had to get up and she wanted to cuddle and kiss. Finally we got out of bed and as she went for her shower she said, "I am so lucky to have you." For once I was smart enough not to saying something "smartass" and ruin her moment.
I hope she is still okay when she gets home tonight in an hour or so. When she feels bad or is down, I feel bad too. I feel so helpless because I can't change the things that are hurting her.

 

She was definitely much better last night. She still feels bad about her father's situation but she has come to terms with it.
We fulfilled our "orgasm requirement " last night and afterwards we cuddled and talked for several minutes. Then she decided she wanted an oral orgasm and I had no problem complying. I actually feel privileged to do it, especially now when MY orgasms are more about "I have to" in stead of "I love you." Then we shared that kiss she finds intoxicating (her words) and just held each other for a long time. She eventually fell asleep in my arms.

 

Sorry, but this is just about me feeling sorry for myself most of the day again and it has nothing to do with chastity or our love encounters. I just need to let it out and this is where I can do that. So again, I’m sorry. It does have a happy ending though thanks to my friend, Ellen. And thanks to Hubby too but it was kind of his fault to start with.

When we got home from church this morning Hubby sensed I was down a little and since it was sunny (Cold but sunny) we might take Big Red out. I told him I didn’t feel like it. He suggested a couple other things we might do and I pooh-poohed them too.

I just started my period but that wasn’t my problem but I wasn’t sure what was. Hubby asked if I was still upset about daddy but that wasn’t really it either. I had dealt with that. Hubby just wouldn’t let it go and kept quizzing me. Then he asked me if it was because my mother wouldn’t talk to me on the phone the other night. I broke into tears and just started to bawl. Hubby held me and apologized because he knew he struck a nerve.

When I calmed down I started to babble on and on. I told him I knew I had a falling out with my mother that night at Thanksgiving. Maybe that was why “Crazy Tuesday” was so out of control. I was making up for losing my mother. I didn’t know. Then I told him that in the next days I thought that my relationship with my mother was going to change. She was going to finally see me as an adult. She would see how happy I was and she would be happy for me.

All at once I just grabbed Hubby so tight and burst into tears again. I said, “She hates me! She is not my mother! I never had a mother!” I was inconsolable for a long time. Hubby didn’t say a word. He just held me so tight. I think he was even a little teary.

Finally I calmed down and I said something so stupid. I asked, “Do you know what it means not to have a mother?” Then I remembered he lost his mother when he was so young and I felt so bad and I just kept saying I’m sorry to him over and over. Hubby said it was alright. He understands. “He had a wonderful mother for thirteen wonderful years.” He held me until I got my composure back.

Hubby suggested I call my sister and talk to her about it. “Mother disowned her. You can see how she deals with it.” That seemed like a good idea and I called my sister. Sis was very understanding. She told me how hurt she was when mother didn’t allow any of us to come to her wedding. It was a small, simple wedding with just her husband’s family. She told me it bothered her for months but her husband’s family was wonderful. They lived with his family for a few months till they could afford an apartment and her mother-in-law treated her like she was a daughter. When the baby came her mother-in-law supported her everyway you could imagine. By the end of the first year she didn’t care about our mother one bit anymore.

It was good to talk to Sis but it almost made me feel worse. She has this family that treats her like one of their own. Hubby’s mother died before we even met. His father treated me like a princess but he was killed after we were only married about a year. I was still feeling down.

Hubby finally told me that I may not have a mother who loves me but I have people like Jane and Ellen. He said, “They love you and are there for you almost like a mother.” That made me smile for the first time and I said that I was going to call Jane and talk to her for a while and I asked Hubby if I could do it by myself. He gave me a kiss and went out to the shop. I called Jane but she wasn’t home so I called Ellen. We talked for almost an hour. At the end of our conversation she said, “You know we can go down to the court house and I can file adoption papers and you can be my daughter. I only had sons and it would be nice to have a daughter.” We both laughed and I felt pretty good. I told her I would love to be her daughter.

I went out to the shop and told Hubby about our conversation. I said if he still wanted to go for a ride we could do that. He said it is almost five o’clock. How about I just take you to the diner for supper.

 

Hubby and I decided to alter the way we meet his sex requirement starting last night. (Just finished my period.) We were looking for a way to make it more about love and less about sex. So this morning we were talking and the question came up about why we always keep making love after his sex is over. That seems to be why he does not have that down period after sex but neither of us actually understands how the body works and the few psyche courses I took in college had little or nothing to do with sex. They were more oriented toward marketing and management skills.

It occurred to us that this is something that may indirectly also be a result of our experience here at CM. If Hubby had not come here it would have never happened. In our early years when sex was almost non-existent and bad at best, he always just kissed me after, rolled over and we went to sleep. When we reached that low point of all lows that almost was the end of our marriage, in total fear and frustration, I wrote my feelings down and posted them for my new imaginary friends. The support we received inspired me to make us take a week where we did not go to the internet or talk to anybody and we talked about sex with each other for the first time. We talked every night.

What we came up with, as some of you may recall, was a once a week programed sex. I would have sex with him the best I could and then he would make sensual, intimate love to me without sex. It allowed him to have his orgasm and allowed me to feel less bad about the sex and actually feel loved afterwards.

We did this for a couple of months and he slowly found out that intimacy can be as rewarding as sex. By the time this programed sex started to feel more like a duty for me, almost as if I was prostituting myself, he was able to give up his orgasms completely for me. We both wanted to find a way to have passionate sex and that still colored our relationship in the bedroom some but it also brought us much closer and we discovered new ways to be intimate.

When my miracle finally happened I was transformed. I now enjoyed sex, but that desire for the intimacy remained for both of us. It is as if that experience last summer taught us, especially Hubby, that being sensual and intimate after the orgasm makes it even better. It makes him feel so loved. That is how it came about. A happy accident.

Please don’t criticize me for my beliefs but I have to believe that this was just another way God was teaching us about love.