I've lost all passion. I used to have it, tucked away somewhere in a back pocket, waiting to pop its fuzzy little head out at a moment's notice. But now, well, I'm not sure. It may have died of old age, or I may have washed that pair of pants one too many times. Whatever the reason, it no longer comes when called. It no longer surprises me by singing its romantic song and speaking only in rhythmic poetry.

I feel too young to be so jaded, but I feel too old to fight back. My ex-husband used to bring me flowers every Friday - stargazers, roses, tulips - to show how much he loved me. There were no words, no sleepless nights spent professing our love to each other. There were only gifts, physical monetary tokens of love and appreciation. I missed the words, I missed watching someone's tongue click between their teeth when they said the word "love."

An ex-fiance used to write songs for me. We'd spend the night on the phone; I could listen to his calloused fingers slide up and down his guitar strings for hours. He didn't have much money, we barely saw each other, but those moments on the phone with his musical expression of love was all I needed.

I used to email Eala (she has come to name herself - Swan in Gaelic - which is perfect because she will forever be my graceful beautiful swan princess) lengthy emails with expressions of love. I'd stay up all night with the sound of my fingernails clicking against the keyboard, trying to get out just what I wanted to say. It would never come; I never came close to being able to tell her just how much she means to me. Words could never do her justice.

With "him" in the beginning, we'd email back and forth all the time. The freshness of our romance was so new that we never wanted to say goodnight, never wanted to hang up the phone. I had to delete all those old communications as they were physical evidence of the betrayal of my husband, but I still remember them by heart.

And now. Now, I don't expect anything. I thought for awhile that I was being realistic, that the domestic reality was worth much more than any romantic inclination. I've been feeling lately, however, that something has been lost in the reshuffling of my life. It's not about the flowers, guitar strings, emails, love notes. It's about the spontaneity. It's about expecting the unexpected, not giving in to the monotony of always knowing what the other is up to.

I can remember the spark that kept me with each of my ex-boyfriends (girlfriends) clearly. I can almost feel my pulse raising, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing in loving salute. Now, things seem to have changed. I no longer yearn for that feeling, and I'm beginning to wonder if this is the first step down the wrong road. I don't doubt what I have with him. I doubt the degrading of my own feelings, and I wonder why its happening. Is this simply "growing up?" Or am I truly missing something?

This entry was posted by Mellie, on Thursday, June 02, 2005.