I assumed from the moment I first saw him, that he and I
would grow old together. I figured we’d lose our looks apace, and that
affection in our hearts would supplant inspection by our eyes once we became
old.
I assumed that physical attraction was like those fuel
barrels that boost a rocket through the heat of the atmosphere and then are
detached and are cast off to orbit the earth. Like debris. Like memories.
Why didn’t anyone tell me 28 years ago, that when the man I
mustered the courage to approach and talk to at that dismal bar in that
wretched little city would turn 50, I would see only the man I first saw on the
night we met.
That is what no one tells you. That your lover doesn’t age in your eyes! When I look at him on this, his 50th,
I see exactly the same face I saw then. Why didn’t anyone tell me this amazing
truth? My guess is that this truth is economically inconvenient. If we assume that the passage of time
will render us as undesirable as an old dishtowel, we will lay out cash to
fight the imagined enemy. We will
be anxious about the future of our faces.
I always knew they say that love is blind, but I thought
they meant to youthful details. I didn’t think I’d be blinded by the sight of
my beautiful husband forever, but I am. That’s what they don’t tell you.
