I don’t know about this: True love, true life, truth itself, is dull. I’ve been with the same man for 30 years. We still have plenty of supernova moments, plenty of romance — some of the old married kind, but some not. Comfortable predictability is not inevitable. Not all that long ago he pulled me into the pantry so we could grope and kiss and giggle while our family watched TV in the next room — and it’s not a walk-in pantry, so we just barely fit. Romance and passion can stay lit when you don’t let the grind of everyday life blot them out.

Most of his childhood friends walk and talk like old men. They live in the glory days of the past and still love their wives, but probably haven’t experienced much real passion of any kind for many years. Our lives are full of life — of learning new things, trying new things, growing, healing, fighting, making up in a place of better understanding of each other. OK, I think I need to stop here and just go write a story about this. 😁

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Dispelling cultural myths with research-driven stories. My favorite word is “specious.” Not fragile like a flower; fragile like a bomb! Twitter @ElleBeau

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