burtlo

IX. Putting it All Together

There was nothing that felt more right at the time than the relationship with my ex-wife. I felt as though I had suffered the trials by fires and now divine providence itself sought to deliver me into the arms of a fallen angel. My prayers had been answered. A women of such beauty, only surpassed by her wit, charm, and intelligence. I had found an equal and a better.

Though, in the midst of first meeting her, I was surrounded by other lovers.

The remarkable affair with a minx that adorned herself in school girl attire and adventurously sought pleasures with me on the streets of Olympia and in the backseat of a careening car. If I had ever felt an accomplished lover, it was in those brief moments spent in her arms.

Or the compounding sexual tension that unexpectedly found a Canadian pen pal and me exchanging hand-written letters dripping with sexual intent. Fantasies, that one day we hoped to see realized.


It was not so much that she stood above these other lovers, hardly, it was more her ability to need me, to be consumed by her own desire that drew me most to her. Irrecoverably sealed when I dialed her number one evening after our first meeting, catching her in the middle of a cry. In a few sweet words I had jarred her from it and brought her to happiness. I stumbled back to bed drunk on how I had so successfully affected her mood.

But it wasn't until we found each other together, on the floor of her apartment, that I felt as though divinity was truly at work. Our second date. What started innocently as a late night movie and a well-executed massage, evolved into a groping for each other in the darkness. Pulling each other closer into a kiss. I crawled up onto her, my weight grinding into her, my tongue driving her lips open. Still clothed, we pressed even closer. In a quick flash, she gasped. An orgasm.

From that night forward, the all consuming fires of passion drove me to into her arms until the early morning. Every night we would play Tom Waits, Nick Cave, and Mazzy Star. Every night revealing more and more of our naked bodies to each other. And despite our pleas and testimony on the virtues of a slower romance, we found ourselves grinding closer and closer to sex. Until we could bear it no longer.

Everything fell to the wayside. My life became about her. I tried my best to mathematically disprove the immensity of our relationship. But it was in vain.

Financial destitute she subsided solely on the financial means granted to her by the virtues of her children. Her home, a small hovel of an apartment, littered with a number of articles claimed to have been left by a previous roommate. Instead of poverty, I saw courage. I thought that I could serve to bring hope to her life.

The reserve I might have felt towards involving myself with a women with children was lost on me. They brought only a gravity to life and conversations that were often filled with unimportant fluff or thinly disguised cries for acceptance. It felt as though I had reached maturity.

Besides, both children were adorable and loving them came easy.

The romance that proceeded, heavily marinated in sex, took us to marriage in a few short months. I happily donned my role as the pinnacle lover, the caring husbands, and the patient fathers. I said goodbye to my barracks "roomie" and left to start my life with my new family. A life that would bring her and the children out of the series of unfortunate events that had mired their life thus far. I wanted them to have a chance because I loved them and they deserved it.

My marriage, despite the rough road that was quickly painted ahead, drove me down a path towards being a better person. This relationship influenced so much of my humanity. It taught me the definitions of humility, communication, commitment, and a whole slew of words I had previously learned only in movies. It is often easy to reflect on one's previous life's decisions with even the smallest sense of regret. But in this case, I cannot.