Menopause...

I am in love with a saint.  An.Absolute.Saint.
This really happened.

My Love called me and asked me to meet him for lunch.  He has been attentive this season because I guess I always get emotional around the Christmas holiday.  He is a really busy man.  He has a job that, according to me, is very important and integral.  He has kids.  He volunteers.  He helps his friends.  He has Me...  He has Me...  Yes, he has me...

Christmas came and went.  I made him dinner.  We watched a movie at home.  We exchanged gifts; I gave him home made Kahlua and he gave me lots of money and some luxurious body butter, lotion and cologne because that's what I like.  We had lots of face time and body time.  We read, we touched, we were silent together.  It was great, wonderful, intimate, romantic even amazing.

Now, what I am going to share with you won't make any sense.  You may have questions that seem like easy solutions to some of the problems I suffered but remember, this post isn't about me.  It's about him.

After Christmas he was at work and he called me to ask me to meet him for lunch.  I am always glad to hear from him and I almost always want to see him so I agreed.  It was set.  We would meet at 2 o'clock.  Well, I went downstairs to have my coffee and sit quietly for a minute before starting my day.  It didn't exactly work out that way.  My body was quiet but my thoughts were all over the place.

I cancelled our lunch - via email- siting the fact that I was low on gas and couldn't drive all the way across the valley to meet him.  I said, in the email, that it was OK with me if he were to come over to my house the following morning and crawl into bed with me but I wasn't driving to him.  (I know, right?)

I get a phone call and in his usual loving voice he asks me if I would prefer he drive out to my house for lunch.  We didn't even have to go out.  We could have lunch in and sit and talk together.  He simply wanted to see me.  I was confused and relieved that he was still speaking to me, but I happily agreed.

So, he comes over...  we eat, we chat, we nap and he has to go back to work.  I am happy.. unusually happy.. almost like on a drug happy.  We both have to drive into the city so I suggest I follow him in.  He agrees so we set out on our way.

Now... here's the thing.  I could ask him for anything and he would give it to me if he could.  He never wants me to suffer, stress or be in any harm.  I don't like taking things from him.  I am self sufficient and all those great things people are supposed to be at my age.  When I accept his help it cracks that theory/armor a little bit and it makes me feel uncomfortable.  So I never tell him I need gas and I only have enough to get back and forth to work and that's as long as I drive slow.. the speed limit.

We get on the freeway and I am following his sexy car.  After about a mile I can see he is driving about 70.  I am only 65 and I can't go over 65 or I may run out of gas on my way home.  I keep waiting for him to slow down.  He doesn't.  I consider speeding up.  I can't/wont.  So what does this self sufficient person of my age do?  I begin to cry.  I am crying on the freeway because he is ahead of me and driving faster than I am.  I watch his car get further and further away and cry with just as much melodrama as if he left me standing barefoot and in rags in a desolate high desert in the winter.  I thought to call him but realized I forgot my phone at home.... and my lunch.... and my dinner...  and I didn't eat breakfast....   By the time other cars were between us and I couldn't see him anymore I was sobbing.

The minute I get to work I email him with the title, "why did you leave me?".  I mentioned all my horrors and woes and in some sense blamed them all on him.  I hope I never know what he does privately when he reads some of my emails because I was so relieved when he wrote back and .. he apologized..  After his apology he offered to come and get me on my break, take me to get a sandwich and fill my gas tank.  I replied, "No.  I don't have enough time for that.  I have some chips here."  Then he says, "OK, I will bring you a sandwich and mentions my favorite sandwich, and give you some money for gas."  I reply, "NO.  I am fine." This went on for a couple more emails including things like "I want to take care of you whenever I can" and "I love you's" from him and declarations like "I can take care of myself 100% financially", "I'm serious, don't come here." until he finally relented and went home without bringing me dinner or gas money.

Of course, that pissed me off.

I work nights so he usually doesn't call me in the morning.  He emails me.  The next day I awake to an email from him asking me how I am.  One of his questions was about my statement of how I can "take care of myself 100%".  Honestly I don't remember what I replied but it was a bunch of blather about a bunch of crap.  I was writing a novella of shit and it took me so long that he wrote back again saying he hadn't heard from me and he hoped I was ok and that he loved me.  To which I replied only, "sometimes i don't think you like me." then finished the other one and sent that too.

Oh Jesus.  I wish this were the end of the story but it's not.  My menopausal hormones were in overdrive.  I was even perspiring so much that I had to mop my face with my hankie.  I kept checking my email for his reply and when I didn't get one I decided to cut the crap and just call him.

I dialed... it rang... and rang...  and then he picked up but didn't say anything... then the call disconnected.  Normally I would understand it wasn't a good time.  He is at work after all.  But not this day.. not with this internal chemistry.  So I dialed him right back.  The call went straight to voicemail.  That bastard!  I even went down a list of possible women he could be cheating on me with.  Then I got a text from him.  "Give me a sec.  I'm in the bathroom."  I was relieved... and actually replied "teehee" to his bathroom text.

Oh my God.  This poor man.  He must have known when he called me back he was walking right into the face of global scale dumbassness.  I have no idea how he kept his cool but he, kind of, did.  He listened to all my fears and irrational thoughts and my anger about how I was hungry last night and every single thing.  We talked about our roles in the relationship together.  I remember saying a couple of times, "No, just let me say this.  Just let me finish." so obviously I wasn't letting him talk.  FINALLY he just lost it.

He did.  His voice got tight and he said with no small degree of authority, "No, you listen.  If you want to be my wife then you better start acting like a wife.  That means that you don't refuse everything I try to give you then get mad when I don't give it to you.  From now on, if I want to do something for you or give you something you are to accept it as a token of my love and all you are allowed to say is "Thank you Dear".  That's it... nothing else.  You take it and you say thank you!".  I started to speak and he said, "No, I mean it.  If I give you the ugliest Christmas sweater ever made you are to accept it and say thank you dear.  You can even take it back later but you will still thank me.  Do you understand that?"   "Yes"  "I mean it.  Do you understand"  "....yes.  i do..."
"OK then, damn it!"

He continues,
"Now, tomorrow, when I see you, if I want to give you something what are you going to say?"  "Thank you, Dear."
"Damn right you will."
"I will."
"I love you Angel."
"I love you too and thank you for putting up with me."
"That's what love is.  Good bye.  See you tomorrow, Angel."

Oh...  deep breath... sigh...  I count myself so damn lucky.  This menopause is a really wild ride.  It's horrible.  It's like, I know I am being a complete idiot and completely insane but I can't stop myself.  It's like ...  I don't know what it's like...  It has to be something like manic depression.. the ups and downs.  Mood changes back and forth in a matter of seconds.  Seriously dangerous and tedious shit...  and the sweat.. oh God the heat and the sweat...

Oh.. sigh..  He must really love me to put up with this stuff.

I am going to meet him today.  As soon as I publish this, in fact.  I hope he does give me the ugliest Christmas sweater on the face of the Earth. I won't take it back.  I will keep it.   I will wear it when I am alone with him.  It will be the only thing I am wearing...  And all he will hear, over and over again is,
"Thank you, Baby.
I love you.
Thank you for loving me so completely."