By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
I was wrong. The years have turned into a full decade together, and I can now weigh the fabulous feeling of a first kiss against one seasoned with scores of shared memories and experiences. In my case, security and true intimacy conquered fleeting moments of passionate abandon. After all, I'm still married, right?
To say that I don't sometimes--and periodically often--miss the old feelings would be a lie. Occasionally I feel truly sad at the thought that--barring something I don't actually want to happen--I may live out the rest of my life without ever again feeling an electric impulse travel up my arm the very first time a man unexpectedly takes my hand.
I have come to the conclusion that, ultimately, the tradeoffs are worth it. Physical intimacy with someone you know very, very well has a quiet, pulsing energy all its own. When my husband takes my hand, it may not strike me as a thrilling surprise, but it always gives me great joy. Additionally, I have been surprised to discover just how much more I enjoy my personal identity as a "lifer" than I did the unpredictability of not knowing who would celebrate my next birthday with me.
And perhaps best of all, my friends like me much better now.