Originally uploaded by dromidror
Okay, so now that we all have a good understanding of the current state of my body, let's move on to something a bit more interesting. Well, before we move on let me say this, while I wanted to share how grief can take it's toll on us physically, I meant for it to be shared with humor. I love humor, even in tough, difficult times. And if putting my ass out on the line (figuratively) helps, well then that is where my ass will be found. I don't want you all to think that I obsess about this, or that I hate my body, because I don't. I like who I am, give or take a few choice parts. But, I have to remind myself to show it some appreciation now and then, because nobody else is going to. I think I should plan some kind of self-pampering night. You know, wine and dine it. Who knows? I might get lucky!
This is the kind of thinking that goes on in this thick skull of mine. I miss not having Michael around to throw this kind of banter back and forth. I miss flirting. I miss kissing. I miss hugging. I miss sex, but there wasn't too much of that these past couple of years. Is this something appropriate to discuss?
When someone in a relationship gets cancer, it effects the other spouse/partner just as much. Our lives suddenly stop, we have to re-examine our plans for the present and future, and then modify our expectations, and try to move forward. While this is happening, there is little sleep, or too much sleep due to medication issues. There are countless appointments, and very unpleasant side effects from the chemotherapy to deal with. Now, tie all this up in a pretty little bow, turn to your imaginary spouse and say...Honey, want to get jiggy tonight?
When Michael was initially sick, he felt terrible about the fact that our sex life had disappeared. I told him not to worry, it will come back in time. It did, just not in the same way of course. There were times that I felt like having sex, or felt that I needed the type of intimacy that comes with sex, but Michael was in a different space. Then there would be times that he would want it, but my mind couldn't be furthest from feeling amorous, as I was balancing work, kids, Michael's appointments, and cancer research. We eventually had to talk about all this, as we were giving and receiving mixed messages. Suddenly one who used to initiate sex, didn't feel comfortable expecting it, and the other felt less attractive because of said illness, and didn't feel like he was wanted. What a big mess this was.
In time we learned to communicate better about our needs, both emotional and sexual. These days I have only myself to talk to. (imagine Barry White in the background) I say, 'hey Dan, you're looking mighty sexy tonight? Why don't you come over here so I can rub your shoulders they way you like it.' 'What kind of a guy do you think I am' 'Don't you know that I am a recent widower?' (music volume goes up slightly) 'Yes, I know you real well, I know what you want, I know what you used to get, and I know what you need.'
Well, let's suffice to say, that some nights I am easy. And, some nights I just give myself the cold shoulder. I never really know what I want. It all depends on the type of day I had. Was it a really low depressing kind of day? A day where I fought back tears all day long? Or was it a day reflecting on the wonderful memories of Michael and I. A day to walk among the romantic and loving days gone by.
Either way, I'm stuck dating myself. Now part of me says, hey, if I'm feeling so lonely, and just want to get laid, then go out and get laid. Michael could care less. Actually, Michael would likely encourage it. But that is not where I am at. I want Michael. I mean...I...want...Michael. Ya, in that way. I'm still human. I still lust over my husband. I would love to have his spirit or ghost, creep into our room at night, and just have his eerie way with me. Why not!
As you can see, I'm in quite a mood tonight. I'm having some fun with this. Maybe I should open this up for an question and answer portion of this post. Maybe not. I know that there are those, friends of mine, who are likely wondering, how long will he go without sex? Does his sex life end at 50? Should he be taking a vow of celibacy? Well, I was already walking down the celibacy path 25 years ago, and believe me, I don't want to revisit that.
Where the hell is all of this leading? To 'no where good' some would say. I'm up to no good. Again, that is actually not true. I am being good, too good, and chaste.
What is my point! I suppose my point is this. I am a man. I am a gay man. I am a 50 year old gay man. I am a 50 year old Latin gay man. I am a 50 year old Latin gay widowed man. I have needs people!
I need to get out a good book, crawl into bed wearing Michael's jammies, get a nice cup of tea and settle in for the night.