“I’ll go back to reality, but only as a tourist.” is a beautiful, sharp and hilarious one-liner from the play and film A Thousand Clowns. I have forgotten whose line it was, but it fits how I feel today. I have to run down The Mystery of the Missing Paperwork in order that my disability checks resume. That is a priority, plus pay the homeowners association dues and return a DVD to Amazon. Then I must send a mislabeled book back to an Amazon vendor somewhere in Ohio.
This weekend I got closer to J than I have been in a long time. We spent almost the whole weekend together. Friday night would have been her 39th wedding anniversary to her first husband. She tells me, “My wedding night was when I lost my virginity.” I ask her to tell me more about the experience, not from a perspective of physical details, but from an emotional, a “feelings” point of view. She says nothing. That silence said more than words. How do I get closer? There are things that need to be said. Things like, “Honey, I feel like you hold back from me. Is that why you are afraid of sex and don’t have orgasms?”
Sunday night, she did laundry. I had to put my jock straps in the washer, because she did not want to touch them. Is that weird or isn’t it? Underwear is OK. Jocks are a no-go. Then when I didn’t wear underwear under my pajamas, she acted surprised. There is much to be said, evidently. I guess we’re all afraid of something.