The Not-So-New-ly Weds

Mr. B is not the only man I have loved. I've been lucky enough to fall in love thrice: puppy love, first love, life love. Obviously, Mr. B is the life. Puppy was years ago, before relationships became complicated by grown-up concerns- back when love was just you, and the partner, and possibly some drama from the classmates. First was the space in between- learning to cut back on the drama, and grow on your own, while loving someone else.

My relationship with First began well, proceeded happily, and ended. I could say it ended badly but truthfully it could have been worse. I'm over the end now and remember the relationship with nothing but fondness. First was not only my first 'grown-up' romance, but also my first significantly intimate relationship. I have never wished that First wasn't my first; it was a careful choice on my part, and I remain convinced that I made the right decision. First is a good man, a good person. A good first.

Looking back on it now, my romantic history seems a lot like life imitating art. The arc from Puppy through First and onto Mr. B has been so smooth; the time spent and lessons learned from each relationship are almost perfectly apportioned into thirds. Mr. B's lovelife has been less simple, probably because it has had more acts and a larger cast. I won't elaborate on his, but maybe he'll make a guest appearance someday and explain it all! The fact that he's had more partners than I doesn't bother me in the slightest, and the fact that I have had one other than him has always seemed right.

This morning, though, I woke up with the sun streaming through my window and an odd feeling of regret. I turned over to see Mr. B still sleeping, and suddenly wished that no one else had ever touched me. This is the first time I've had this feeling, and I'm not sure where it came from. I put no special stock in virginity, and I know my husband doesn't either. When I first felt it, still groggy from sleep, I was upset; it was a sharp and burning hurt in my chest. But I've been thinking about it all day, and I've decided to cast it in a different light.

I still remember First with fondness, and I'm sure I always will. This morning wasn't a change in past affection but a next step in my marriage- a deepening of my love, a reflection of my wish to be with one person forever. I know our future stretches out before us; my greedy heart is now trying to stretch our togetherness back into my past as well. When I think of it this way, the emotion is no longer uncomfortable. Instead, it makes me feel more secure.

Mr. B is not the only man I have loved. I've been lucky enough to fall in love thrice: puppy love, first love, life love. Obviously, Mr. B is the life. Puppy was years ago, before relationships became complicated by grown-up concerns- back when love was just you, and the partner, and possibly some drama from the classmates. First was the space in between- learning to cut back on the drama, and grow on your own, while loving someone else.

My relationship with First began well, proceeded happily, and ended. I could say it ended badly but truthfully it could have been worse. I'm over the end now and remember the relationship with nothing but fondness. First was not only my first 'grown-up' romance, but also my first significantly intimate relationship. I have never wished that First wasn't my first; it was a careful choice on my part, and I remain convinced that I made the right decision. First is a good man, a good person. A good first.

Looking back on it now, my romantic history seems a lot like life imitating art. The arc from Puppy through First and onto Mr. B has been so smooth; the time spent and lessons learned from each relationship are almost perfectly apportioned into thirds. Mr. B's lovelife has been less simple, probably because it has had more acts and a larger cast. I won't elaborate on his, but maybe he'll make a guest appearance someday and explain it all! The fact that he's had more partners than I doesn't bother me in the slightest, and the fact that I have had one other than him has always seemed right.

This morning, though, I woke up with the sun streaming through my window and an odd feeling of regret. I turned over to see Mr. B still sleeping, and suddenly wished that no one else had ever touched me. This is the first time I've had this feeling, and I'm not sure where it came from. I put no special stock in virginity, and I know my husband doesn't either. When I first felt it, still groggy from sleep, I was upset; it was a sharp and burning hurt in my chest. But I've been thinking about it all day, and I've decided to cast it in a different light.

I still remember First with fondness, and I'm sure I always will. This morning wasn't a change in past affection but a next step in my marriage- a deepening of my love, a reflection of my wish to be with one person forever. I know our future stretches out before us; my greedy heart is now trying to stretch our togetherness back into my past as well. When I think of it this way, the emotion is no longer uncomfortable. Instead, it makes me feel more secure.