brain (melting) storming

So far I’ve talked to three couples, all married forever.  The men all talk about sex and the women talk about chores.  This is without a doubt the stupidest thing I’ve gotten myself into.  Today.  Calvin thinks a blowjob every other Friday is the secret to eternal love.  Christ, the mental image is enough to turn even my stomach.  B thinks because her hubby mows the lawn when he should that they share “something special” I am not a hopeless romantic by any means and I deal with bodily fluids on a daily basis, so what makes this so hard?  I don’t agree with the responses I’ve been getting, and it pisses me off I can’t just take them at face value.  This has turned into “It’s all about me” instead of a learning experience.  I don’t give a tinker’s damn about grades but I can’t throw together a pile of shit and throw a ribbon on it, either.  Why did I open myself up to this?  I wanted the key to the door and I get Hillbilly Zen responses that aren’t what I expected.  Am I that self-centered to believe I’m the only one or am I just the most fortunate man on Earth to have Love without working for it?  This is the voice of frustration in a primal scream Ginsberg sort of catharsis.  My beliefs about what Love is are being challenged and that forces me to reexamine them.  I should have taken the easy road and done some half-assed piece on trucks or why I shot my television.  What makes me think the answers I get are even remotely connected to what I seek?  What do I seek?  The key to longevity of love and thereby my own intangible monument to myself?  Right now I’m in love with the question mark key.  Saturday is my wife’s birthday and I will surely express my love in many ways, but is it because I want her to know I love her or because I love her?  Am I that insecure?  I remember a line from some movie where the guy asks what love really is and the girl tells him it’s one of those things you figure out too late.

                The couples thing limits it, so maybe I’ll speak to widows and widowers.  I don’t want to fall into a rabbit hole by asking recently divorced: “why?”  Too many raw nerves still there.    Since writing the above paragraph I have gained back a little of my original focus and the realization that yes, this is all about me.  If anyone else learns anything from it that’ll be good, but this is my journey and mine alone.  My mother asked what was up in school and I tactfully avoided this particular subject, giving her a instead a broad overview of my classes.  I wonder what will I do if that hatred factor pops up Wed. when I talk to Pete F.  He was divorced about 35 years ago and happily married since then, but I really don’t want to open old wounds.

                My experience with love is that it is a daily occurrence and not eternal until you are dead.  I am lazy and want to know that my love will last longer than I do.  I don’t care what your definition of love is, as long as it’s close.  Same species, different breed works for me.  How did you find it?  When did you know?  What do you sacrifice for it?  Is it worth dying for?  Is it worth killing for?  What would you do without it?  Does it change over the years?  Are you happy with it?  Does it conquer all?  What if you knew she/he would look like this 50 years later, would you still have fallen in love?  Would you put her out of her misery?  Do you even think about it, or do you take it for granted?  Is sex even involved now?  I know it sounds trite and cute and all, but it’s the one subject I can’t quantify and compartmentalize, so it’s the one I’m going to figure out for my own selfish reasons.